


(it's enough) to be young and in love

by maxverstappens



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: (It's up to you to decide whether Max and Alex are dating - all will be revealed), Angst (I tried to keep it mostly angst-free), Architect!Charles, IT Guy!Pierre, M/M, Max and Charles being the best friends we deserve, Misunderstandings, unhealthy coffee consumption
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26615605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxverstappens/pseuds/maxverstappens
Summary: Charles Leclerc is one of the most promising, young architects to graduate from UCL and work in central London for the best part of two decades but my god, the ability to stop his computer from crashing and shutting down at least twice a day exceeds him.alternatively, Charles is a genius but sometimes technologically inept and falls hopelessly, irretrievably in love with the IT guy who saves eight months of hard work.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc
Comments: 60
Kudos: 127





	1. back to work or the coffee shop

**Author's Note:**

> hi, hello, how we all doing? how we all holding up? 
> 
> okay, so, i first started writing this a month ago but quickly stopped because i had writers block and started writing it again just before monza so I was convinced i was going to finish it for pierre's win and then i didn't. it was also supposed to be 10k as a whole and now it's 3 chapters and probably somewhere between 36-39k which is. honestly i'm stunned. 
> 
> \- i am not an architect, i know fuck all about architecture apart from what i have researched so please don't come for me, i think architects are cool!  
> \- title and chapter titles are from love // lana del ray bc queen  
> \- i will probably update every week because i can't be sure i'll have the time  
> \- i have never written pierre/charles before so be gentle i'm fragile lol  
> \- permission for max and charles to actually be friends because writing them as best friends is so much fun  
> \- please enjoy :) x

Charles Leclerc is one of the most promising, young architects to graduate from UCL and work in central London for the best part of two decades but my _god,_ the ability to stop his computer from crashing and shutting down at least twice a day exceeds him. 

“For fuck _sake!”_ Charles cries out at nearly midday, 

Alex, at the desk joining his sitting opposite, flinches before looking up from his screen to find the look of frustration curving at every single crease of Charles’ face. 

“Again?” Alex asks him, curiously lifting himself up to see over the glass divider that separates their desks. “What have you done this time?” 

“Me? It isn’t me! This fucking thing hates me.” 

“That makes two of us.” Max comments drily, walking back and elbowing Charles in the back of his head before sitting on the edge of Alex’s desk and joining the eldest of them all in watching Charles’ frustration, “have you tried turning it off and on again?” Max teases, grinning at the annoyed expression on Charles’ face. 

“I wish someone would turn you off and leave it.” Charles mutters, pushing the looser strands of his hair away from his eyes as he starts to slam his fingers against the keys but the computer remains lifeless. “I want a new computer.” He complains, “I’m going to ask Seb or maybe, Lewis. Whoever is in a better mood.” 

Max snorts and even Alex cracks a smile. 

“Good luck, I’ve been asking for a new keyboard for three months and I’m _still_ waiting - do you know how many times I’ve had to use my phone to Google words that don’t have the letter _M_ in them because that key is fucked?” Max asks him, “do you _know_ how hard it is to sign off emails when my name begins with a fucking _M?!”_

Alex and Charles descend into a bout of laughter at his expense causing Max to roll his eyes at the pair of them and cross his arms over his chest. 

Charles frowns afterwards, resisting the urge to point out that the real reason Max is getting nothing is because he walked in on their bosses in an all too compromising position just before Christmas and he’s _never_ lived it down from either of them. 

“Just call IT.” 

_“No!”_ Charles squawks and glares at Alex as though he’s just revealed his deepest sexual fantasy for all the world to hear. “I can’t! They think I’m an idiot who can’t use technology,” 

“Are they wrong?” Max asks and jolts forward a few seconds later from Alex presumably kicking Max’s shin. 

“Is that the real reason you aren’t going to call?” Alex pushes, a knowing twinge to his voice as he leans back in the cream leather desk chair, a pen between his teeth. 

Charles flushes pink, ducking his head and refusing to look either of them in the eye, the yellow Post-It note with IT’s number is stuck on the top right corner of his monitor and Charles deliberately avoids looking at it. 

He knows the real reason he can’t call IT, Alex knows, Max knows, Seb _and_ Lewis know and probably the entire architecture department knows the real reason why Charles becomes a rambly mess when he’s on the phone to them. 

Him, 

He doesn’t even know his name. 

All Charles knows is that there’s two of them but the one who always helps Charles restart his computer during its random shutdowns has the softest voice that he’s ever heard. Sometimes it sounds like he’s whispering and Charles has to strain over the sound of everybody’s fingers tapping against the keyboards and the conversations. Charles _thinks_ he’s French otherwise he’s going to be _embarrassed_ considering that’s all he refers to him as in his head - _the French IT guy_ who to Charles’ annoyance has become the source of most of the teasing and jokes that Alex and Max make. 

The clouded glass door to Seb’s office slides open and Lewis walks out, shrugging at the collar of his blazer followed by the owner of the office running a hand through his hair. 

“Max, get _off_ the desks, they’re not chairs.” Lewis calls out to him, stopping at the desk itself and staring at him, 

Charles and Alex have to hide their smirks behind their hands.

_“You’d know all about getting off on desks, huh.”_ Max mutters loud enough for Charles to catch as he stands up, seeing the way Charles jumps forward and coughs loudly to hide his laughter. 

Charles’ cheeks are still pink when he leans back and flicks his gaze up to meet Seb’s eyes noticing that his boss is already looking at his blank computer screen but before he manages to ask _again?_ like Alex had, Charles cuts in,

“Can I have a new computer?” He asks him, frowning and tapping the mouse and keyboard only for it to still remain completely lifeless. 

“These are new, Charles, they’re all less than a year old.” Seb answers and it’s that monotone voice that means no matter how many times Charles asks or gets down on his knees and pleads for a new computer, he’s not getting anything. “Just call IT - they can figure out why it keeps shutting off.” 

Charles opens his mouth to protest that it’s been five months since his computer has randomly started to shut off and they haven’t managed to fix it. His ears are burning red and he sinks deeper into the chair, face hidden behind the desk as he nods and mutters a _fine_ loud enough for Seb to catch. 

He reaches for the phone and taps in the number, it’s ingrained in his brain as he puts the phone to his ear and drops his gaze, raising his middle finger at both Alex and Max who are leaning forward with wide grins. Charles digs his heels into the plush carpet of the office as the phone rings before the call connects,

_“Hello?”_

Charles tugs his bottom lip between his teeth for a second before exhaling a sigh, “my computer broke again.” 

There’s soft laughter coming from the other end of the line that has Charles’ cheeks turning pink under the bright lights overhead. 

_“Let me guess-”_ he starts, stops for a second when Charles hears another voice in the background before he continues _“eighth floor, architecture department, the same computer I had to reset seven times last week?”_ He asks with a hint of amusement in his voice. 

Charles is so distracted thinking about what his smile would be like that he almost misses the question completely before mumbling out a _yeah, it’s me_ in response that’s twinged with complete embarrassment. He must think he’s an actual idiot for the amount of times that he’s had to help Charles but at _least_ Charles can say that he’s guaranteed to keep him busy throughout the day. 

Alex and Max are leaning ever closer to his desk trying to strain themselves to listen to both sides of the phone call and _really_ Charles should be lucky that Seb and Lewis have stepped aside and are now engaged in a conversation and paying next to no attention to him. 

_“What happened this time?”_

“The same as usual. It shut off, I didn’t press anything!” Charles promises, hating the way that his voice automatically rises so that he’s practically squeaking down the phone.

Max sniggers opposite him at his voice, Charles picks up his notepad and throws it at him even though it lands short just in front of him. Alex takes the notepad and scribbles down something in bright yellow highlighter before holding it up for Charles to see over their desks. 

_ASK HIM HIS NAME!!!_

It says though it takes Charles a good few seconds to squint and actually understand what it says - why the hell Alex thought it was a good idea to use a _bright yellow_ highlighter is beyond him. 

He’s explaining what Charles needs to do and Charles follows him, presses the right buttons and the computer bursts into life a few seconds later,

_“You saved your work this time, yes?”_

“Yes,” Charles laughs softly but it’s mixed with a sigh of relief, he was ready to plan his funeral last week when he almost lost three hours of work. “I will never make that mistake again. Thank you for helping me.” 

_“It’s my job.”_

Alex and Max are both pointing and hitting the notepad out of the corner of Charles’ eye, 

“Um. What is your name? I don’t know and I think-” _we’ve talked enough times that I know your voice is my favourite sound in the world but I don’t know your name and French IT guy isn’t good enough._

_“Pierre.”_

“Pierre.” Charles repeats but that’s only for his friends’ benefit, “I’m Charles.” 

_“Charles.”_ Pierre repeats and it has Charles fighting back a smile that’s curving at the corners of his lips at the sound of it. _“I look forward to hearing from you in a few hours.”_

Charles can’t even feign offence, it’s bound to happen. Charles would deliberately shut his computer off but Pierre’s right, he’ll probably be back on the phone before the end of the day anyway. 

“He finally did it!” Max suddenly shouts across the entire floor, arms spread out wide. “Now, are we heading for a spring wedding or are you a summer wedding kind of guy?” Max asks Charles, raising his eyebrows. 

“Oh my god…” Charles draws out in a mumble, covering his face with his hands. “Fuck off,” he tells him, grabbing the nearest thing to him - a highlighter and throwing it towards Max. “Let me do my work in peace,” 

Max hums and leans over the divider, glancing down at his watch, “oh sure, you’ve probably only got a good hour before it breaks down again.” 

Charles rolls his eyes and doesn’t dignify that with a response even though Max is right about it. 

“How’s the presentation coming along?” Lewis asks - his voice cutting through the sound of Alex showing Max something opposite him as he stands at the end of the desk, “will you be ready? Less than two weeks now?” 

Two weeks. Charles had started off almost eight months ago only exchanging a small number of emails with Toto Wolff and Charles didn’t have any clue what to make of him. He’s definitely very well-spoken in emails but then _again,_ so is Charles. Lewis speaks highly of him and Seb although sometimes through gritted teeth, also speaks highly of him. 

Seven months he’s been working on this project, it sometimes doesn’t feel real that _seven_ months have passed, that the emails turned to phone and video calls before Toto came to London to meet up and exchange the full brief.

Charles smiles and prays that Lewis can’t see the fear that’s curving at the corners of his eyes and that his smile is aching his jaw from how hard he’s pretending that he’s completely on course to finishing.

In his defence, he would have been on course if Alex and Max didn’t spend every night at his apartment distracting him from work,

(He doesn’t mention that he’s the one who invited them first because he needed a break from wearing his glasses and staring at his sketches). 

(In the end, he can always blame it on the fact his computer is incapable of working for just one day). 

(He hasn’t pulled all-nighters since he was at university but he can already see how the next two weeks are going to turn out). 

“Things are great, Lewis.” Charles says, smiles sweetly and shrugs. 

“Glad to hear it - Max, go back to your own desk.” Lewis tells him before turning away from the desk and walking back to the office.

Max is muttering under his breath as he starts to walk back to his own desk - 

“You know, you’re the _only_ one who didn’t know about them, right?!” Charles shouts after him, 

Max answers him with his middle finger as he drops down into his chair and stares at his computer screen. 

Charles loads up his designs again and sinks back into drowning out the office around him and focusses on sharpening the edges of his design, he rests his chin on his other hand and listens to the clicking of his mouse as he moves around. 

This is the design that he’s the most proud of, he’s been proud of a lot over the years but _this_ is the one that got him the opportunity with one of the biggest clients that their company has ever had. 

_Why_ Lewis and Seb trusted _him_ with it in the first place is a mystery. Charles saves the design and leans back in his chair, he has only been out of university for just over a year and half and yet here he is, on the verge of putting forward a design that could be the biggest deal that the company has seen since his bosses were just junior architects. 

Seb had been anxious, Lewis had called the client _brilliant_ but _sometimes too fussy for his own good_ and that had done absolutely nothing to help Charles understand why the both of them chose him for it. He might be talented and listed as one of the most promising but that’s precisely _why_ he was chosen - 

_You’re different, he won’t be expecting it_ \- that’s what Lewis had told him at least and Charles had accepted it, he’s always been the last person to stick to typical designs, he likes to be a little out of the box. 

Fourteen all-nighters won’t be able to compare with the feeling he’s going to get when he gets the fussiest client in, according to Seb, _all of Europe_ to be taken aback in sheer surprise and amazement at his designs. 

Or, that’s what he hopes happens at least. 

*** 

“Hey, you coming?” Alex asks, fiddling with the collar of his coat as Max struggles in the background to find his phone,

Charles thinks about it before shaking his head, “not tonight, I want to stay late and get some more work done.” 

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me alone with _him.”_ Alex draws out, rolling his eyes at Max on his hands and knees underneath his desk trying to feel around for his phone, “look at him, _Jesus,_ I don’t know how we put up with each other.” 

It elicits a smile from Charles as he shrugs, leaning back in the chair and stretching his arms above his head. 

“I heard all of that, you know and, fuck you.” Max huffs coming up behind Alex and tugging him back by the hood of his coat. 

“See you later? Or if you’re too busy, Monday?” Alex waves, looping his arm through Max to yank him towards the door with the younger almost losing his footing completely. 

Charles watches until they’re out of sight before loading up a different programme and starting to play around with different options, already regretting telling himself to stay and do work when he _knows_ that Alex and Max are in the nearest pub as usual on a Friday night and he’s not with them. 

Slowly, everybody starts filtering out for the weekend, bidding Charles goodbye and even Seb - two hours later is surprised to still see Charles sitting at his desk losing his mind as his glasses rest atop his head as he’s taking a break. 

“Is it too late to back out?” Charles asks, staring at the screen feeling his eyes become heavy. 

“Yes,” 

Charles jumps so high that he almost knocks his chair onto the floor, “Jesus Christ, sorry, I didn’t see you.” He mumbles out the apology to Seb in a rush, “I don’t think it’s good enough, I don’t want to disappoint everybody because they have all of this faith in me-”

“- Charles,” Seb interrupts and leans against the desk, watching the younger closely as Charles pulls at the hem of his jumper. “Nobody, _nobody_ is going to be disappointed if he doesn’t like it, they’re going to do what they did when Lewis had a design rejected by him and when I had a design rejected-”

“- You guys got rejected?” Charles cuts in, looking up at Seb as though he’s sprouted an extra head, 

“He can be a fussy son of a bitch, Charles. He’s a great man, humane unlike some of the bastards we’ve had to deal with over the years but he _does_ know what he wants.” Seb chuckles, “he’s a difficult man to please so even if he rejects this one, we’re all going to do what we did on both of those occasions, have a drink and spend an evening talking shit about him and why we don’t need it.” 

Charles can’t help but smile at Seb’s words and he nods, wringing his hands together before resting them against his stomach and meeting his boss’ eyes once more but the question falls from his lips,

“If he rejected two already, why would he come back a third time?” 

“He rejected them for no other reason that they weren’t right, he never once thought we weren’t talented.” Seb answers, it’s not a complete answer but it’s enough for Charles to accept. 

“Okay, _okay,_ I’m going to keep working.” He decides and sits up straight, his hair falling over his forehead as he feels Seb’s hand ghosting over his shoulder for a second, 

“I’ll see you Monday, Charles.” 

“Night, Seb.” 

And Charles is alone in the office that feels too big now that there’s not forty others talking, answering phones and clicking on keyboards. Charles looks around, most of the lights are switched off except the ones hanging over his and Alex’s desk and the streetlights are just about visible in a golden glow through the glass doors leading into the offices. 

He leans down and opens his bottom desk drawer pulling out an old, red cardboard folder that has some of his sketches in and the sketchbook that’s underneath it, sliding off the chair and sitting on the floor as he opens both of them up and starts spreading them across the light brown coloured carpet. 

He sits on the floor for a couple of hours, just sketching in his notebook, swapping around designs (and having three existential crises in the process but he skips over them). He can feel the exhaustion beginning to settle in somewhere around one in the morning and hears the sound of footsteps approaching and the door to the office being pulled open.

Charles whips himself around like a deer caught in the headlights as he scrambles to his feet and stands by his desk, his fingers curling around the back of his chair as the person comes into view. 

He stops suddenly, eyes widening as he meets Charles’ gaze, 

“I - I didn’t know there was still somebody here - sorry - I can wait-”

Charles would recognise that voice in his sleep, _hell,_ he’s fallen asleep to the sound of that voice on an embarrassing number of occasions. 

“Pierre…” Charles trails off, a hint of a smile curling at the corners of his mouth as he releases his death grip on the chair. 

“Charles?” Pierre doesn’t sound as convinced, 

He walks into the light and blinks away the silhouette, Charles just stares at him, watching the way that the longer strands of his hair are falling over his eyes despite him continuing to push them away, hoodie sleeves falling over his hands when he drops his arms back down to his sides. Soft curves at his jaw, he’s gripping a bottle of water in one hand and his phone in his other hand as he stands awkwardly a few steps away from the desk. Charles catches the small smile that’s tugging at the corners of his mouth and he drops his own gaze to the floor, 

“It’s late, you’re still working?” Pierre’s question takes Charles off-guard even if it’s the most obvious thing to ask, 

“Yes,” Charles answers, “but, so are you?” He asks, “you’re here too.” 

“IT performs maintenance on the computers on the last Saturday of the month, we usually do them early in the morning because they can take eight or nine hours.” Pierre explains, his voice softer than it is during their phone calls. “We do them this early in case they have problems so we can redo them with time to spare.” He continues, shrugging as he meets Charles’ eyes. 

“Don’t mind me, I’m just working on some sketches - but tell me if I’m in your way.” 

Pierre nods, Charles nods before dropping back down to sit on the floor and pressing the backs of his hands to his cheeks feeling the heat burn against his skin. 

_Where was he? Sketching? Sorting his designs? Both?_

Charles can’t manage to think straight, staring at the sheets of paper that cover the floor in front of him and instead tilts his head up and watches Pierre as he moves between different desks, sitting down at them for no longer than a few minutes at a time.

“Do you have to do all of them individually?” Charles asks, his voice sounding all too loud in the empty office, 

“Unfortunately,” Pierre replies with a smile, turning away from the computer he’s currently at, “it’s time consuming but you have to do it.” 

“Tell me about it.” Charles sighs, he pulls his glasses from his face and drops them down onto the floor, pressing the base of his palms against his eyes. “Je veux quitter mon travail.” Charles mutters, it’s an exaggeration, he knows that much, he loves his job _a lot_ but staring down at his sketches with a headache building at the base of his skull isn’t helping. 

The sound of soft laughter from above him drags Charles out of his daze as he flicks his eyes up to meet Pierre’s and the smile that’s curving at the corners of his mouth, 

“Don’t we all have those days?” He asks, raising his eyebrows at Charles, 

Charles nods, “I’m about to have fourteen more of them.” 

Pierre turns away and types something before standing up and moving to sit down opposite Charles, carefully avoiding touching any of the papers. 

“Fourteen more?” 

Charles picks up his most detailed drawing and hands it to Pierre, watching him as his eyes scan over every edge of it. Taking in every pencil line, every erased edge with such precision and care that Charles momentarily forgets he’s not being judged on this or at least he hopes he isn’t.

“I have a presentation coming up - with a huge client - I have two weeks to make sure everything is perfect.” 

“It already looks perfect - it’s really good - you’re really talented.” Pierre fumbles upon deciding what to say, his cheeks flushing pink under the only light that’s above the both of them. “Are you nervous about it?” 

“I guess so.” Charles shrugs in answer and takes back the sketch that Pierre holds out to him, holding it by the corners and letting his gaze fall over it for the briefest of seconds. “It’s a big deal to get an opportunity with him, he’s exceptionally hard to please so _that’s_ why I’m nervous.” 

“I don’t know a lot about this, _okay,_ I don’t know anything but I do know that these are incredible.” Pierre smiles and gestures to the spread of papers, “I think you’re really great.” 

Charles can feel the heat burning at the back of his neck and slowly creeping up until it’s hitting his cheeks with full force as he nods and whispers a _thank you_ that seems far too quiet to be heard over the sound of the computers surrounding them but Pierre shrugs suggesting he’s caught it. 

“What do you know about this client?” 

“My boss calls him a fussy son of a bitch and I think that pretty much explains it all.” Charles chuckles and presses his thumbs against the soles of his shoes as he sits cross-legged. “He’s really successful, he’s from Austria, he has a lot of work here in London. I’ve met him a few times and he’s nothing like the stories you hear about horror clients.” 

“You don’t sound enthusiastic though.” Pierre comments,

“My boss, who is the politest person you could ever meet, called him a _fussy son of a bitch,_ Pierre.” Charles laughs, shaking his head, “I know I’ve met him but I still don’t know _everything_ and I don’t know how the presentation will go, I don’t know if I should be worried or not.” 

“I think-” Pierre starts and his change of tone to something unreadable captures Charles’ attention and gaze “- you’re going to be just fine.” 

Charles is stumped for a response and instead he wrings his hands together, his cheeks aching from how hard he’s trying not to smile.

He just lets himself stare down at the carpet until his vision turns blurry and he hears Pierre getting to his feet and starting to walk around the office. Picking up one of the original sketches, Charles holds the corner with his thumb and forefinger until they start to tremble. 

“How many more do you have to do?” Charles asks and starts to gather up the papers to slide them back into his folder to avoid stepping on them.

“Two floors.” Pierre answers whilst trying and failing to stifle a yawn. “It’s not as much fun as it sounds.” He chuckles, running his fingers through his hair to push it away from his eyes,

“Can I come with you? I could do with a break…” Charles trails off, only realising how _ridiculous_ of a question to ask once the question is hanging in the air but it’s also nearly one in the morning and he’s tired and the thought of stretching his legs, seeing something other than his desk. “You can say no-”

“- I’d like the company.” Pierre interrupts him, melting Charles with a single glance. “Only if you don’t mind getting coffee with me first because I don’t think I’m going to keep my eyes open otherwise.” 

Charles quickly slides his folder onto his desk before reaching for his jacket and waiting at his desk for Pierre, curling his fingers around the leather and slowly rocking back and forth as he follows Pierre’s silhouette around the office. 

For a second, Charles thinks about pulling his phone out of his pocket and texting Alex to tell him he’s getting coffee with Pierre but he isn’t ready for the caps-lock attack that’s going to come from Alex followed by Max over the two of them being in the same room out of the blue.

He _could_ use Alex’s advice though to ease the side of his brain screaming _date_ ear-piercingly and the rational side of his brain yelling shut up it’s just coffee because at one in the morning that’s a good idea. 

Locked deep in his thoughts, Charles is frowning so hard that he doesn’t notice Pierre coming up to stand in front of him, he still has his jacket in a tight grip in his left hand when Pierre’s voice cuts through his internal panic.

“Ready?” 

“Sure.” Charles breathes out, quickly pulling his jacket on and pulling the collar up around his neck as he swipes his phone from his back pocket ready to send an SOS message to Alex but decides against it when Pierre holds the glass doors leading into the corridor open for him and Max’s teasing of a spring wedding comes back to haunt him. “Are you French?” Charles asks suddenly,

Pierre stops, his finger hovering just before the button for the lift, “yes?” He answers although he sounds completely unsure. 

Charles breathes out a sigh of relief, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth, “I’m sorry - it’s just in my head I called you _French IT guy_ and it would have been _really_ embarrassing if you weren’t.” 

Pierre hits the button and nods in understanding, “French IT guy? I’ve been called worse - there’s this one guy who works on four and he’s so rude even though I help him whenever he needs it, he doesn’t have any manners.” 

“Some people are _awful.”_ Charles agrees, 

“Not you though.” Pierre says to him, catching Charles’ eyes softly as he steps into the lift and Charles thinks he’s going to continue but he doesn’t.

Charles leans against the wall of the lift and looks at himself in the mirrored wall opposite, his hair sticking up at all angles, the bags under his eyes, his glasses desperately needing cleaning and the faint dusting of pink that Charles is _sure_ has been there since he saw Pierre.

All in all, he looks like a huge fucking mess. 

Coffee is definitely a good idea.

He starts to pull at the longer strands of his hair until the lift stops at the ground floor, Pierre jogging out of the lift 

“I’ll be a few minutes, I need to grab my jacket.” He says to Charles,

Charles nods and hangs around the ground floor reception, he waves and smiles at the security guard on duty before pulling his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through the messages that he’s missed over the last few hours and when he opens his message thread with Alex, it’s just his best friend complaining about Max (and all of it is justified). 

Pierre comes back, fiddling with the zip on his jacket and they both walk outside in the bitter, winter air - London lit up with street lamps and the damp pavement from the rain that Charles had heard just after eleven. As they walk, their shoulders start to brush together. Charles looks around London and it feels _odd._ He doesn’t usually work this late so to come out of the office in the middle of the night feels like he’s just stepped into an alternate universe and even more so because Pierre is beside him. 

Pierre. 

The same guy that his friends have been teasing him non stop about since the middle of last year. 

It feels like Charles is coming down with a cold again, he has only just gotten over the one that plagued Christmas with his family - in fact, Charles was so glad he decided to spend New Year with Alex and Max here in London because he thinks his family were _done_ with him by the twenty seventh for giving them his cold. 

Walking into the train station, Pierre explains that it’s the only place nearby that’s got a coffee place open all night but Charles is that desperate for coffee at this given moment that he would have taken any explanation that Pierre offered.

Pierre pays for his (and Charles’ overly-extravagant order that takes him completely by surprise) with the promise that Charles can get it next time. 

“Next time.” Charles mumbles to himself and feels pathetic for the smile that twitches in the very corners of his mouth. 

***

Charles sips his coffee and follows Pierre back to the office, follows him around the different floors and asks questions that he would kick himself for not knowing the answer to that Pierre takes in his strides and explains carefully to Charles’ exhausted brain.

Charles is on the verge of falling asleep but he keeps asking questions even ones that are as trivial as _what’s your favourite colour?_ He just wants Pierre to keep talking, to hear his voice, to sit in the chair beside him and watch the little flurry of confusion that’s etched across his face before he answers. 

Charles presses the straw between his teeth and rests his chin against his hand watching as Pierre leans back and stretches his arms above his head.

It’s closer to four in the morning when Pierre finally finishes and Charles is torn between wanting to stick around for nine more hours and go home and fall asleep for the next nine hours instead. Pierre stands up from the last computer and rubs his hands across his face before grabbing his jacket and sliding it on.

_“No…”_ Charles trails off, whining slightly, too tired to move, wondering whether the beige carpet is as comfortable to call bed for the night as it looks. 

Pierre stops in front of him, chuckling at Charles’ expense but he’s so shattered that he doesn’t even care and instead holds his hands out towards Pierre as a silent plea to help him stand up. 

Pierre does so without question and Charles gets to his feet although he sways at first, wrapping his jacket further around himself as he clutches his empty cup in his left hand, 

“Thank you-”

“- For what?” Pierre asks him, his voice laced with a tiredness that drops it a few notches lower to quieter than a whisper. 

“I don’t know, the coffee, making tonight worth staying for, I’m happy we finally met - I mean, you’ve been fixing my computer for nearly half a year after all.” Charles lists off in a ramble, avoiding Pierre’s eyes as he fiddles with the sleeves of his jackets to give his free hand something to do. 

Pierre drops his hand onto Charles’ shoulder and squeezes it gently, “thank _you_ for making tonight a lot less boring, Charles.” 

And there’s something about the way that Pierre says his name that could reduce Charles to even more of a rambly mess of a human being than he usually is. Charles blinks and wakes himself up again for a few seconds, long enough to flash Pierre a sleepy smile and get himself ready to leave when Pierre’s voice drags him back.

“Can - can I get your number? If you want to-”

Charles fumbles to pull his phone out of his pocket and unlock it before handing it over to Pierre managing to do so without dropping it on his foot or something equally as stupid. He waits for Pierre to type his number in and pass the phone back before looking down at it, thumb hovering over the contact. 

They get the lift down silently and wave goodnight to the security guard before stepping outside into the freezing cold for the second time in as many hours stopping outside the door as a few cars drive past them. 

“I’ll text you, get home safely.” Pierre says to him, leaning in and letting his lips brush against Charles’ cheek before barely a second before backing off,

“You too.” Charles forces out, his cheek burning despite the cold,

Pierre leaves him with a smile yet Charles waits and watches until he’s walked around the corner before walking in the opposite direction silently thanking himself for renting an apartment that’s _near_ work unlike Alex and Max who are idiots and decided against that piece of genius. 

***

Daylight is streaming through Charles’ blinds when he wakes up to a pounding and at first he’s convinced he’s woken up with a headache to rival all hangovers but it becomes clearer once he stirs that the banging is coming from his front door. 

Truthfully, his first thought is to grab his pillow, roll over and press it to his ear to drown out the noise but it _could_ be important, it could be a parcel being delivered or it’s the food he didn’t order - now that would be perfect. He pushes the covers off himself and slides out of bed, dragging himself through the apartment until he’s at the door, the knocking still continuing until he pulls it open revealing the two panicked faces of his friends.

“Jesus Christ, you look like shit.” Max says in lieu of a greeting, 

“Thanks, come in, what time is it and why are you here?” Charles asks, stepping aside to let the two of them inside before pushing the door shut. 

“It’s midday, Charlie and we’re here because it’s Saturday and we always come here on Saturdays because we go out for lunch… oh my god, are you sick?” Alex asks, tutting and pushing his hand against Charles’ forehead despite Charles’ best efforts to duck out of his friend’s way. 

“I’m not sick, I’m _tired.”_ Charles answers, putting the emphasis on the word to try and get his friends to turn around and leave so he can go back to bed for the rest of the day. 

(They don’t pick up on the hint). 

(In fact, they give Charles twenty minutes before he’s being pulled out of his apartment by the sleeve of his coat stifling a yawn and trying not to fall asleep against the wall outside when Alex remembers he’s left his phone on the coffee table).

“What time did you get back last night to still be _this_ tired?” 

Charles shrugs and shakes his head, “four - something? I hung around late.” 

“No shit.” Max snorts, “how’s the presentation?” 

“Remember how it was yesterday?” Charles asks, Max nods “yeah, so, about the same but-” Charles gets cut off by the sound of his phone in his pocket and when he pulls it out, 

An unknown number graces his screen but the message has a smile curling at the corners of his mouth as he reads it a few times over, 

**[*****-***-***]** _Hi Charles! It's me Pierre, I just wanted to say thank you for spending this morning with me and I hope you got some sleep :)_

Max raises his eyebrows at the dumb smile on Charles’ lips but before he even has a chance to ask him (or rather tease him until his face is redder than the hideously bright hoodie he’s wearing) Alex walks out of the building dangling his phone between his thumb and forefinger and swipes the thought straight out of Max’s mind. 

****

Charles almost jumps out of his skin when he feels Alex’s hand on his shoulder and he scrambles to lock his phone, his chest still light as the words from the text move around his head, drowning out the conversation between his friends. 

****

He thinks about how to reply all the way through Max and Alex struggling to agree on where to eat and his thumbs hover above the keyboard as he tries to come up with a reply that seems like he’s not trying too hard or _worse_ sounds too desperate. 

****

“What do you think, Charlie?” 

****

The question pulls Charles out of his thoughts and he slowly slides his phone into his pocket and flicks his gaze up as they stand outside a restaurant, 

****

“Nachos or-”

****

“- Nachos.” Charles cuts in not bothering to listen to both options, it’s the height of January, it’s cold and if he has to stand outside for another minute longer he’s convinced his fingers are going to freeze in place. “It’s cold-”

****

“- You’re the one who’s only wearing a hoodie.” Max points out hiding behind his hoodie and coat that are covering the majority of his face. “You have nine different designer coats and you’re wearing the same hoodie you had when we were in university together.” 

****

“Stay jealous.” Charles quips, raising his eyebrows before feeling Alex grab a handful of his hoodie sleeve and pull him towards the restaurant.

****

The neon signs illuminate Alex and Max’s faces as they sit opposite Charles once inside, Max with a menu pulled in front of him whilst Charles takes his phone back out, opens up the message from Pierre and pretends to tap out a message whilst he thinks carefully about what he actually wants to say to him. 

****

**[Charles]** _i did sleep until my idiot friends woke up to go and get food_

Charles slides his phone onto the table and feels a tad embarrassed at how many times he glances down for the device waiting for a reply that doesn’t go unnoticed by Alex who kicks his ankle underneath the table, 

Charles opens his mouth to complain when his phone lights up and he immediately grabs it, flicking his gaze across the message, opening it up and reading it again

**[Pierre]** _That sounds terrible. How dare they?_

Charles’ cheeks flush pink as he reads the message in a sarcastic tone - or at least he hopes it’s meant to be sarcasm, after spending most of his adult life around Max he’s grown to read every message or hear sarcasm everywhere. A small touch of a smile begins to curve despite his best efforts to keep a straight face as he taps out a reply all too aware that Alex is watching him closely ready to ask him as soon as he’s hit send. 

**[Charles]** _if they're buying me food i don't think it's all bad_

 **[Pierre]** _Enjoy your free food, Charles :)_

“Who are you texting?” Alex asks, distracting Charles with the question long enough for Max to reach forward and try to swipe Charles’ phone from him but the thing _is,_ Charles sees that coming and drops his phone into his lap. “Oh, well done.” Alex draws out sarcastically, 

Max smiles sheepishly whilst Charles just grins smugly at him. 

“You’ve known me for seven years; I _knew_ you were going to do that.” Charles says to him, only adding to the embarrassed flushing of Max’s cheeks. 

“One job, Max, that’s all you had to do.” Alex tuts, folding over one corner of the napkin in front of him.

“If you wanted the phone so badly - why didn’t you grab it off him?” Max asks, sliding his elbows along the table and dropping his chin against the palms of his hands, “I’m not always going to be the accessory to your crimes.”

“You two do know I’m sitting _right_ here? Am I invisible?” Charles calls out and waves his hands in front of his face to get the attention of his friends. “Neither of you are getting my phone,”

“Who _are_ you texting though?” Max asks, 

Charles holds his phone by the top two corners, the pads of his thumbs pressing against the glass as he looks down at his screen - only a message that he’s just received from his mother in his notifications.

“Pierre.” 

_“What?”_

_“Since when?!”_

Alex and Max ask at once receiving dirty looks from the family opposite for the disturbance as Charles meets their eyes, shrugging, Alex and Max are hung onto every inch of Charles’ face and they’re paying more attention to him at this current moment than they usually do during meetings at work.

“Texting? For like twenty minutes but I met him last night - wait - today but earlier - like one or two - I’m not sure.” Charles explains but he knows for a fact that it’s not doing anything to satisfy his best friends’ curiosity. “It wasn’t anything special,” 

_“Charles”_ and it’s just by the way that Alex says his name that has Charles cringing at what’s going to come “you’ve been obsessed with him since you first talked to him-”

“- Obsessed is too strong.” Charles interrupts, frowning,

“Obsessed is right, go on Alex.” Max argues, leaning back in the chair and looking between the both of them,

“Thank you, Max but _seriously,_ this is the guy you talk about non-stop, you’re so _kid with a crush-like_ when you talk to him or about him so you can’t tell me that it wasn’t anything special. Spill it, Leclerc.” Alex tells him and Charles can’t see him wriggling out of the full story until they’re satisfied. 

So, Charles does. He retells almost every moment that he can remember from this morning, some are just plain hazy and non-existent in his memory through his exhaustion but thinking about it leaves a smile at the corners of his mouth throughout. 

Grabbing a handful of nachos, Alex and Max keep teasing him over the summer wedding that’s going to happen and for a split second Charles wonders what it would be like to have friends that aren’t so emotionally invested in his life but on the other hand he can’t imagine his life without the both of them now. 

“Does he look like he sounds?” 

“What?” 

“... Hot.” 

Charles rolls his eyes so far back that he thinks they’re going to roll back into his head for a second at Max’s words but the answer is there in bright pink, more specifically, the bright pink that’s covering his cheekbones like a makeup routine plucked straight out of the eighties. 

“He is but _like,_ it’s the cutest fucking thing in the world - his hair is kinda long that it looks like mine in the morning but if it’s like that all the time then _fuck, okay.”_ Charles begins to ramble, he talks about his cheeks and how Charles was able to make him smile, _no you don’t understand! He smiled at me and I thought I could die right there on the spot._

Charles is completely aware that he must be coming across like a lovesick puppy right now (and not just because Alex calls him one either) but he doesn’t want to shut up about it, he wants to retell his friends about Pierre buying him coffee and insinuating a _next time_ would happen, that it’s an unofficial date.

“If buying you coffee meant a date then we’ve been in a relationship for seven years.” Max mutters, 

“I paid to fix your car when you were broke!” Charles calls out, 

Alex sits back, revelling in the pair of them and listening to them throwing out all the times they paid for each other in university, disappointed that he never got to experience it but almost _grateful_ he doesn’t have what would be scars from having to get a degree and be around them constantly (he really _does_ love them). 

**[Charles]** _do you think it's a bad idea to kill my best friend?_

Charles bites down on his bottom lip and looks at the message that he’s just sent Pierre, he doesn’t want to seem _that_ keen but he also wants something more than just exchanging short messages every few days - maybe even, every few weeks.

**[Pierre]** _How long have you been friends with them?_

 **[Charles]** _seven years in october. but we say seven years anyway because it's the seventh year already_

Charles doesn’t get an immediate response and feels himself starting to panic, pathetic, he knows that he shouldn’t expect a reply within twelve seconds but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want it. 

He turns his phone over and slides it onto the table, pulls at the remaining few nachos and eats them whilst trying not to look at his phone, he doesn’t check it once they’re finished up and they leave the restaurant and he manages to keep himself from looking at it until the three of them are back in his apartment. 

**[Pierre]** _You're too nice :)_

From the smile that stretches across his lips, you'd think Charles has just won the lottery instead of just getting a text back.

****

Max and Alex’s laughter from the living room doesn’t even distract him from the text and if Charles wasn’t a mature adult he’d probably scream like a child. 

****

(Who is he kidding? He bangs his fist against the kitchen counter and knocks a knife and two spoons clattering to the floor). 

****

***

****

Charles should really clear his desk.

****

He _hardly_ ever uses it, he should though but he usually prefers to sit on the living room floor and work with everything spread out in front of him on the coffee table but that’s just asking him to get distracted by a movie and he really can’t. 

****

He stands behind his desk chair, laptop and sketchbook pressed to his chest as he looks at the array of papers and old university textbooks that are cluttering up his entire workspace and sighs. 

****

He spends almost half an hour cleaning his desk up because once he starts he’s not satisfied with just putting everything on the floor and has to put it away somewhere (no, it’s definitely _not_ a way of keeping him distracted from doing his work). 

****

It’s after two and he’s not ashamed to admit that he spent half of the night texting Pierre and playing an unofficial game of twenty questions - even wanting to find out the boring stuff like what his favourite animal is - finding out Pierre loves pandas might have been one of the highlights of his entire weekend. 

****

Charles turns on his laptop and pulls his phone out of his hoodie pocket, setting it on the desk beside his laptop as he opens up the word document and the mess of half written sentences and an overuse of italics stare back at him. 

****

**[Pierre]** _how is work going?_

Charles picks up his phone embarrassingly quickly but stops himself before admitting that the day is closer to night and he hasn’t actually started yet. He’s always worked better at night, it used to drive Max crazy because Charles would always be up the night before an assignment was due or the night before exams with all of his notes spread out and either music playing or the TV on stopping his best friend from sleeping. 

****

Charles just works better under pressure, always has. 

**[Charles]** _perfectly!_

 **[Pierre]** _have you started?_

 **[Charles]** _no_

Charles slides his phone along the desk and starts from the top, he spends the first twenty minutes just correcting spelling errors and regretting writing this half asleep, he’s not one to shy away from public speaking, that’s not what terrifies him. The thing that could cause nightmares is that he only has two years of experience outside of university and he’s meeting a client who has been in this business for twenty plus years and suddenly he’s overthinking _everything_ he’s ever learnt. 

Charles jumps almost six foot in the air when his phone starts ringing, _no, is that a FaceTime call?_ Charles grabs it, gets ready to answer and tells Max not now when he sees the contact - it’s not Max, it’s not Alex - _hell,_ seeing Lewis’ name pop up on the screen would be less of a surprise than Pierre’s.

Charles answers and waits out the longest few seconds he’s ever experienced as the call connects and at first it’s dark before a whole lot of movement and crackling before Pierre smiles into the camera - 

“Why did you call me?” Charles asks and watches as Pierre frowns “it’s not a bad thing!” Charles rushes to add on seeing Pierre relax at the words “I just wasn’t expecting it.” 

“I’m sorry - it did come out of nowhere but I thought it might be easier for you to work if I stop you getting distracted.” Pierre explains, “if you start procrastinating I will just tell you to keep working, it’s what Dany does when I’m not spending enough time on my app.” 

(Charles doesn’t tell Pierre that he’s the cause of _most_ of his welcomed distractions). 

“You have an app?” Charles asks, reaching for his glasses and sliding them on, 

“I have an _idea.”_ Pierre answers, he’s fiddling with the strings of his hoodie as he looks past the phone presumably at his laptop, “I’ve always wanted to make one and it’s the first time I’ve actually tried to work something out.” 

“You should tell me about it,” Charles says to him and hopes he’s coming across as genuine as the way his stomach flips at the lazy smile that’s twitching at the corners of Pierre’s mouth. 

“I will-” Pierre starts and it sounds like a promise “- only if you do your work though.” 

Charles ducks his head, mumbling out a quiet _deal_ and with one last glance to his phone, he starts to work. 

Charles figured that having Pierre there, watching him would be off-putting and that he’d keep stealing looks when he thinks Pierre isn’t watching him but as it turns out, Charles manages to write out a good chunk of his speech without it feeling like any more than five minutes have passed. 

Charles ends the last sentence he’s writing and leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head and him stifling a yawn is what regains Pierre’s attention, 

“You have been quiet.” He acknowledges, 

Charles shrugs, “your plan worked.” 

“It’s tried and tested… on me, sometimes I think Dany just uses it to keep me quiet for an hour.” Pierre chuckles, 

A swirling of jealousy moves around Charles’ stomach and he drops his gaze, tells himself to calm the fuck down and instead thanks Pierre again. For all Charles knows, _Dany_ could be fifty five and a married man with four kids - why the _fuck_ is he so jealous of that when him and Pierre haven’t been talking long enough to consider themselves friends. 

Charles calls work a day after another thirty or so minutes but the call _doesn’t_ end and Charles ends up cooking with his phone pressed up against the toaster and they talk until Charles starts to mix up his sentences in French and English without even realising. 

In fact, he’s pretty sure the last thing he remembers before falling asleep is Pierre murmuring a _goodnight Charles._

*** 

Alex and Max don’t leave him alone anyway but they’re all the more interested in Charles’ weekend when he walks into work just after nine on Monday morning. 

“Nothing? I didn’t live with you for six years and put up with all your _awful_ habits as a roommate for you to tell me _nothing_ happened?” 

Charles blinks as he sits down at his desk, “you can’t play the ex-roommate card when you want something.” 

Max shrugs and sits on Alex’s desk, “I tried, your go.” 

Alex holds his hands up, “come on, Charlie, something must have happened because you _keep_ looking down at your phone.” 

Charles snaps his eyes up from where he was actually looking down at his phone and shakes his head, 

“Nothing.” 

Alex and Max sigh dramatically, Charles grins, there’s something about making them wait for the tiniest of crumbs to satisfy their investment that makes it all the more fun.

*** 

It’s less than two weeks now. In _less_ than two weeks the presentation is going to be over and done with and that’s a scary thought, he knows he’s on schedule but he also feels like he’s so far behind. 

He’s looking at all the pieces of his model (thanking the world for the invention of 3D printers) and picks up a piece of the structure and holds it in his hand, he can see the imprints of the lines carved into it as it reflects off the light overhead. He has his emails open on his computer, the latest email from Toto sits unread and definitely unanswered before him,

Charles knows that Lewis has been in contact with him recently, it’s almost like he’s back in university and his tutor is contacting the dean over the award he won in his fourth year. It feels so long ago since he got the first email from him, 

He was stuck in Austria, never gave any reasons and Charles never had the desire to find out and he had the criteria list attached in the first email (and the next twelve or so afterwards), it had been so detailed that Charles could have passed out upon first reading and now he’s here with his best shot, 

With it all but done.

Left with just the burning anxiety of overthinking himself into a state of panic of it ending up a complete disaster. 

The office feels too quiet when he doesn’t have Max on one side and Alex on the other, when the sound of tapping against the keyboards doesn’t fill Charles’ ears and he looks around - Seb’s door is shut and _god,_ Charles has spent a lot of time in there during the last year, he’s more like his boss than he cares to admit but he’s been the reason that Charles has gotten this job - without his mentorship, he wouldn’t be half as good as people tell him he is. 

“Is this your entire design?” 

Charles jumps at the sound of Pierre’s voice behind him, spinning around and meeting his eyes, Pierre smiles in greeting. 

“I didn’t mean to shock you,” 

“You didn’t - I mean, you did because I didn’t expect you but it wasn’t a bad shock.” Charles tries to explain, his grip on the piece of his model tightening. “I’m just trying to arrange it, kind of, I know how it’s supposed to look but I don’t know if I’m just overthinking everything at this point.” 

Pierre frowns slightly as he pulls one of the chairs from a desk nearby over to the side of Charles’ and sits down, resting his elbows on the desk and letting his fingers trace over the top of a piece of the model. 

“I think I’m at that stage where everything just feels done but because it’s done _so_ early, it feels like there’s another hundred things that I haven’t done and I can’t explain it.” 

“You just have…” Pierre trails off, “that’s a pretty good explanation to me.” 

Charles’ smile falls short, he presses the sharp corners of the model piece against his palm until it hurts too much to hold and falls, hitting the desk with the sound hitting all four walls of the office. 

“How is your app coming along?” Charles asks, desperate for the distraction. 

Pierre pulls the collar of his hoodie up so that it’s resting just underneath his nose, his feet pressed up against the metal stands of the desk underneath and he radiates such casualness in the simplest of actions that Charles is convinced once Pierre speaks once again he’s going to fall onto the floor and pass out. 

“I thought about it today.” Pierre answers with a slight shrug, “does that count?” 

“You never told me what it was.” Charles reminds him, the curiosity has been itching ever since Pierre told him about it but truthfully, by the time that Charles has finished with work he’d been too tired to remember to ask him about it. 

“It’s kind of like an - _how do you say it -_ augmented reality app that can help you design rooms through your camera and 3D models - it’s kind of like this but on a device.” Pierre shrugs, his voice lowering as he presses the pad of his thumb against a piece of Charles’ model. “I just think it would make people’s lives easier because sometimes it’s hard to imagine how something would look.” 

“So… it’s kind of like my job? Not really.” Charles sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, he sees some comparison or he might just be forcing it so that it gives them something else in common.

“I guess it is.” Pierre smiles, 

It’s a small smile, 

But to Charles, it’s blinding. 

*** 

“Charles, can I speak with you a minute?” Seb asks, strolling out of his office, 

Charles pushes his chair away from the desk, spinning around and flipping Max off when he teases him about being in trouble and follows his boss into his office shutting over the door behind him. 

“Sit down, Charles, it’s nothing bad - I just have someone for you to speak to.” Seb chuckles at the petrified expression on Charles’ face, 

He sits down on the chair behind the desk and Charles sits at the one in front, wringing his hands together but raising his eyebrows curiously whilst also feeling his eyes begin to ache after staring at his computer without his glasses for the last couple of hours. 

Seb turns his laptop around and it’s a grainy image but the dark hair is visible and Charles _recognises_ who it is almost immediately, feeling himself shoot up to sit up straight and sit on his hands to avoid needless flailing of his hands when he’s speaking. 

“Good morning, Charles.” Toto greets him, 

“M- Morning, good morning-” Charles fumbles over the greeting, flicking his gaze up to meet Seb’s eyes but Seb just nods at him, standing up with an armful of papers.

“Stop worrying.” Seb murmurs to Charles as he passes before leaving his office. 

“It’s just a quick message, really, I could have put it all in an email but I decided since we haven’t spoken in a few weeks, I’d not only tell you I’m going to be in London tomorrow and for the next week until the presentation but also just to check in on the progress.” Toto explains to himself, explains it as though it’s been rehearsed nine hundred times until he can speak without messing up his sentences. “I’ve seen the attachments you sent over in your last email, it’s looking great, Charles. Of course, I haven’t seen the full extent but you and Seb do like to inform me that there’s going to be a few _surprises,_ elements I don’t expect?” 

Charles chuckles nervously, “yes, sir, I followed your brief but I’m a case for putting my own spin on almost everything I do. It’s nothing _too_ drastic but it’s just how I work but if you don’t approve - I can change everything, of course-”

“- Charles, breathe.” Toto instructs him, 

Charles does. 

“I look forward to speaking with you more tomorrow, I’ve sent you a couple of emails but _please,_ don’t overthink this, I’m nothing short of impressed that you’ve used your artistic license on this.”

Charles exhales a breath and nods with a smile, “thank you, sir.” 

Toto bids his goodbye before the call disconnects and the door to the office opens almost immediately after, 

“Good call?” 

“I think so.” Charles replies, “it’s getting real serious, real fast.” 

Seb chuckles at Charles’ words as he retakes a seat at his desk, “things move fast, Charles but it’s not necessarily a bad thing, it’s only bad when it’s so close and you decide you don’t like something and have to start again with a very limited time frame.” Seb tells him almost cryptically, sounding like he’s speaking from experience but Charles doesn’t press the subject. 

“Do you think I’m ready?” 

“Charles-” Seb starts and shakes his head in an action drowned in fondness “I think you’ve been ready since I first met you during your interview, admittedly it might have been a mistake to have you _and_ Max working together-”

Charles grins, 

“- But, you came in here, answered our questions and had so many ideas that I’m surprised the interview didn’t last five hours, Charles, you knew what type of architect you were and you were impressive then and even more so now.” 

Charles sits back in the chair and lifts his hands to scrub them over his face, 

“What’s on your mind?” 

“What isn’t?” Charles asks back, “sorry, I’m just stressed because it hasn’t happened yet, I’ll be fine.” 

“It’s a big deal, yes, but don’t forget there’s hundreds of other clients.” 

“Talking from past experiences?” Charles asks and he doesn’t mean for it sound as snarky as he thinks it comes across, 

Seb skips over the tone, “course I am. Nothing is ever easy but needless to say that doesn’t mean that Monday is going to be a disaster.” 

Charles nods, “thanks Seb.” 

He leaves the office and closes the door behind him feeling a hell of a lot better actually, pulling his phone out of his pocket and typing out a text.

**[Charles]** _ok so my client is coming to london tomorrow and now i'm freaking the fuck out wow_

 **[Pierre]** _is it really that bad?_

 **[Charles]** _no he's a cool guy_

 **[Charles]** _wanna get coffee???_

 **[Pierre]** _meet you downstairs_

“Off to see your boyfriend?” 

****

Max’s voice halts Charles as he’s grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch, 

****

“I don’t have a boyfriend but even that doesn’t make me as tragic as you.” 

****

“Prick.” Max grumbles but he sticks his tongue out like the fucking child he is, 

****

Charles just rolls his eyes, shrugs on his jacket and flips Max off on the way out of the office towards the lifts. 

****

Pierre is waiting for him once he gets downstairs to the entrance, waving politely at the receptionist, Dilara, he thinks that’s her name before joining at Pierre’s side. 

****

“Hey, you ready? I either need a caffeine boost or ten days of sleep.” Charles grins, realising both options contradict themselves but even still, Charles is sure he could throw back five espresso shots and still fall asleep for seventeen hours given the opportunity. 

****

“Sleep is healthier, surely.” Pierre comments, pocketing his phone as he pulls open the door for Charles to walk out first, 

****

“I can sleep after my presentation when my biggest dilemma is going to be what to have for dinner.” Charles shrugs, quietening down after that. 

****

“So, your client, are you worried about tomorrow?” Pierre asks as he falls into step with Charles. 

****

“Sort of? It’s not really a worry because it’s not going to be too formal of a meeting, like, it’s mostly just seeing the progress that’s being made and stuff like that? A lot of clients can change their mind at the last minute and we just want to be on the same page and make sure we don’t miss anything important out.” Charles explains, “but please, take the attention away from me for a minute because if I talk about work once more I might just run away to the woods.” 

****

Pierre chuckles, nudging Charles’ arm with his own. “I hope you don’t, I think I’d miss you too much.” 

****

Charles trips on an uneven piece of pavement, his heart surging at the words, replaying them instantly over and over in a loop in his head as he tilts his head to the side to look at Pierre who is still looking in front of him. 

****

Pierre would miss him. 

****

_Him. he’d miss him._

****

If Charles’ ridiculously formed crush wasn’t cemented then it definitely is now. 

****

As was their deal, Charles buys their coffee this time around and they settle into the quietest corner that they can find, Charles immediately wanting to curl up on the brown leather chair and just nap but finding it much harder to tear his gaze away from Pierre than he thought possible. 

****

“I emailed my professor from university the other day… about my app, he said that he can help me. He's going to be in London for a week next month and he’d like to meet up to talk through it.” 

****

“Pierre!” Charles exclaims, sitting upright and catching a lot of unwanted attention, “that’s great! I think it’s a really good idea,” 

****

Pierre’s cheeks turn pink at the words as he mumbles out a small _thank you_ that nearly becomes lost in the sound of cups and plates clattering from behind the counter. Charles keeps asking him questions about the app, 

****

He wants to know about it.

****

He also wants to listen to Pierre’s voice from now until the day he dies. 

****

That’s another matter though. 

****

Charles sips his coffee slowly, sitting cross legged as the lights from the lanterns hung overhead reflect off his glasses which are hooked onto the collar of his jumper as Pierre shows him a video of a mock up of what his app could look like that Dany made for him. 

****

Charles swallows down the pathetic hit of jealousy in his stomach. 

****

He’s never talked about Dany in any other way than being friends, it’d be the same as Charles talking about Max - okay, maybe not Max, they want to throttle each other more often than not, him and Alex, maybe. 

****

“You should use the 3D printer in the architecture department for the models, we have the latest model because we use it more than anybody.” Charles suggests, “but if you do, does that mean I can have a shoutout when it’s completed and the hottest selling app?” 

****

Pierre chuckles, his fingers brushing against Charles’ knee as he retracts his arm and phone, “sure, Charles, I’ll make sure to give you the longest thank you note.” 

****

Charles stretches his arms behind his head and smiles as though Pierre has just expressed his undying love for him. 

****

God, he’s done for. 

****

***

****

“Mate, are you sure you want to stay? You look dead.” Max asks him, hanging off the back of Charles’ chair and placing his cheek on Charles’ shoulder, 

****

“I’m good, I don’t have much left, just this part and I’ll go home, I’m _good.”_ Charles promises, repeating his words and tilting his head back to meet his best friend’s eyes. “You’re adorable when you worry.”

****

“Please, I just don’t want to deal with your ghost haunting me when you get hit by a bus because you’re too tired to look both ways.” Max snorts but Charles sees the concern hidden away in the corners of his eyes. 

****

“Your affection for each other disturbs me.” Alex comments, 

****

Max and Charles just smile eerily similar smiles causing Alex to roll his eyes. 

****

Max ruffles (deliberately messing up) Charles’ hair before he leaves and Charles pushes his keyboard away from him, stifling a yawn and taking his glasses off to give his eyes a break. 

****

**[Pierre]** _i'm going to be up in a few x_

Charles smiles at the message and just sends a thumb up back in response and waits for Pierre to arrive, 

His stomach already in knots, realistically he knows it’s a mixture of everything but all his brain can continue to shout at him is Pierre’s name on a loop. Looking through his emails but not reading them, he hears the door open and Pierre walking in with his laptop tucked underneath his arm. 

“What do you have that for?” 

“It’s for you-” Pierre says approaching him and handing the laptop to Charles “- I kinda need your computer to do some programming updates and reprogramming and other boring stuff, it’s _really_ tedious and takes awhile but you can still do your work.” 

Charles takes the laptop with a gentle smile and for a second he keeps it pressed to his chest before sliding across to a clearer part of his desk, 

“I’m probably just going to answer emails and edit my speech, is that good?” Charles asks, 

“Go for it,” Pierre encourages and pulls another chair over to sit in front of Charles’ computer. 

“Why do you have to do this stuff?” Charles asks, opening the laptop and waiting for it to come on. “Why can’t we do it ourselves?” 

“We tried that but the _amount_ of calls we got from people complaining it wasn’t working - we just ended up deciding to do it ourselves, we played rock paper scissors to see who has to do it tonight and I lost.” Pierre laughs to himself, “I don’t mind, you’re here right?” 

“All night… actually no, I hope it’s not all night.” Charles groans, flicking his gaze over to the laptop screen and he swears he stops fucking breathing as he looks at the open message thread on the screen, 

With Dany. 

With the last messages, 

_Oh my god._

**[Pierre]** _Dany stop_

 **[Pierre]** _I'm not going to tell him_

 **[Dany]** _Wh_ _y not_

 **[** **Dany]** _You like him_

 **[Dany]** _I've heard nothing apart from how much you like him_

 **[Dany]** _Seriously_

 **[Dany]** _Just tell him_

 **[Pierre]** _dude I just can't tell Charles ok_

 **[Pierre]** _just leave it alone_

Charles glances over at Pierre but he’s engrossed in working on Charles’ computer and Charles quickly closes the messages before Pierre notices, his heart racing as he stares at the screen unmoving. 

****

He doesn’t try and steal another glance at Pierre and instead pushes his chair back so fast that it knocks against Pierre’s arm and he jumps up, 

****

“Charles? Are you okay?” Pierre asks, surprised by the sudden movement as he pushes his hair out of his eyes to look up at Charles, 

****

“Me? Sure? I’m fine, I need - I’ll be back, okay?” Charles rushes out without so much as taking a breath, swiping his phone from the desk and hurrying out of the office forgetting his jacket. 

****

Charles is by the staircase when he finally manages to unlock his phone and find Max’s number, pressing down and calling his best friend hoping he’s still awake, he’s probably playing video games or at least he hopes he is. 

****

Max answers on the fourth ring, stifling a yawn and mumbling Charles’ name, 

****

“What’s wrong? Did you _actually_ get hit by a bus?” 

****

Charles can’t even find it in himself to laugh. “Not exactly, wait, no I _didn’t_ get hit by a bus, Max.” 

****

“Charles…” Max trails off, “are you okay? You sound - uh - like you’re about to pass out?” 

****

_“IthinkPierrelikesme.”_ Charles rushes out in one breath, “oh my god, I shouldn’t have looked but it was right there.” 

****

“Slow down, you annoying bastard.” Max grumbles, “what are you talking about?” 

****

“Pierre came up to do something on my computer but he brought his laptop and said I could use it because it could take a while-” Charles pauses and waits for Max’s confirmation that he’s heard him “- and when it turned on, he had his messages open and there’s Dany - he’s the guy that works with Pierre and there were - um - messages about me, not bad but they were talking about Pierre liking me. Like, _mate,_ he fucking likes me.” 

****

There’s a pause before Max answers and Charles could strangle him for how long it takes. 

****

“Okay, why is this bad? You’ve got it bad for him.” Max laughs but it’s more confusion as to why Charles is on the verge of passing out. 

****

“I _know!_ I just don’t know what to do, now I know that he likes me but he doesn’t know that I know and he doesn’t know that I like him too.” Charles rambles, pressing his teeth against his thumb nail and sighing looking out at the stairwell.

****

Max sighs on the other end of the line, “alright, so maybe don’t go back and pounce on him or whatever but maybe ask him if he wants to go out sometime?” 

****

Charles _knows_ that he could have come up with that all by himself but hearing Max say it, hearing his best friend say it and sound exasperated at the same time makes more sense that Charles ever could have made of it. 

****

“You don’t have to thank me.” 

****

“Thank you.” Charles does anyway, 

****

“Jesus, that did freak you out, huh?” Max snorts, 

****

Charles chuckles and grips his phone tighter, “seriously, I mean it, I’ll see you tomorrow and I’ll still be less tragic than you.” 

****

Charles can hear Max rolling his eyes as they hang up, Charles exhales a breath and leans against the wall as the door opens slightly causing Charles to jump at Pierre cautiously standing at it. 

****

“Are you okay?” He asks, not daring to step closer, “you left in a hurry, I thought something had happened.” 

****

Charles laughs to himself, “something like that.” 

****

“Do you want to talk about it?” Pierre asks, 

****

Charles sighs and pushes himself off the wall to smile at Pierre, “I’m-” he stops himself but Max’s words still thump in his ears, _ask him if he wants to go out sometime,_ and it’s nothing scary, Charles could ask him as friends and if Pierre wants to ask him if it’s a date he could just agree. 

****

That’s not scary. 

****

Charles had two reasonably short-term relationships in university and neither of them ever felt this heart-stopping when it came to asking them out, to starting something. 

****

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

****

There it is. 

****

Charles wants to fucking scream, to just do the complete opposite to Max’s advice and pounce on Pierre and convey all his feelings into a kiss to rival even the best-selling rom-com. 

****

He doesn’t though. 

****

“I think I’m exhausted, I should probably head home.” Charles mumbles and he hates uttering the words but he can’t be here now, he needs to be at home, alone and watching TV because he seriously doubts he can sleep. “I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe.” 

****

Charles doesn’t even go back for his jacket or his backpack, he just walks down the stairs and stops three floors lower to sit on the bottom step with his head in his hands. He hears the rain outside the window and pulls his phone out of his pocket to text Max asking him to come and pick him up. 

****

Max agrees without question. He can already tell that his plan crashed and burned. 

****

Max pulls up outside the office and unlocks the car to let Charles climb in, only a little soaked from the heavy rain and he shuts the door and sits in the passenger seat, 

****

“Oh my god, I’m a fucking idiot.” Charles groans, covering his face in his hands. “I had the perfect opportunity to ask him out and I panicked. He was so _nice_ about it, he apologised for making me uncomfortable, _me!_ I made me uncomfortable, not him.” Charles mutters, dropping his head against the window. 

****

“Do you want me to drop you off home or do you want me to take you back to our place?” Max asks, 

****

Charles thinks about it before shaking his head, he doesn’t want to be alone after all, “yours.” 

****

Max squeezes Charles’ shoulder before pulling out and starting the drive back to his and Alex’s apartment, 

****

Charles is almost asleep by the time Max pulls up and kills the engine jostling him awake, he looks out of the window and gets confused until he remembers he _told_ Max to bring him back here over home. 

****

Charles unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs blearily out of the car, closing the door over and walking towards the building with Max closely on his heels. 

****

He’s such a fucking idiot, throwing away the best chance, confusing Pierre, all because Charles can’t remember the last time he had feelings this strong for anybody. 

****

Alex is sitting up in the living room when Max unlocks the front door and lets Charles in, he walks through the apartment he’s spent so many hours in and falls onto the couch with his head on Alex’s lap.

****

“I think I really messed up.” Charles whispers, 

****

“Max mentioned something about texts?” Alex asks, pulling Charles so that he’s lying on his back and mournfully staring up at the ceiling instead. “About you?”

****

“Yeah.” Charles laughs to himself, “he was texting the guy he works with about him liking me and his friend was trying to get him to tell me or whatever but Pierre said he couldn’t do it and so I just-”

****

“- Freaked out and ran away.” Max finishes and Charles hums in agreement. 

****

“I’m a fucking idiot.” Charles whines, pressing his palms against his eyes. “I bet I’ve ruined it, he’s not going to talk to me after how weird I acted.” 

****

“Don’t underestimate him.” Alex reassures,

****

“Yeah, if Pierre likes you having already met you then he’s going to still like you for being a fucking idiot.” Max teases,

****

Charles sighs, screws his eyes shut and just lies on the couch until his head stops spinning long enough to raid their fridge and finds the closest thing to a meal he can and sits in the kitchen eating and staring down at his phone for a message from Pierre, he’s expectant but nothing ever arrives and Charles tries to swallow down the hurt. 

****

He ends up staying awake until just after four sitting in Max’s bed beside his best friend talking until he eventually crashes, fingers still gripping his phone as Max pulls the blankets over them and falls asleep, turning away to face the wall. 


	2. you get ready, you get all dressed up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after a few bad weeks of mental health suffering luvs we back xx 
> 
> okay so this chapter is a tiny bit shorter than the last but that's only because the last chapter is longer??? idk, i got carried away so this is like 12k but i have nothing else to say except i live for best friends max and charles, please enjoy xx
> 
> me: martha stop making gatsby references in your fics  
> also me: no❤️

Charles is sluggish in work and it doesn’t go unnoticed by his bosses who immediately pick up on it and ask him if he’s okay.

Charles makes a joke of it being a comedown from a caffeine high (which isn’t _usually_ that far from the truth) and tries to focus on his work but his head is pounding and all he can think about is Pierre, thinking about texting him, going to the office, calling IT to say his computer has broken. 

In fact, he sits back and waits for the random shut off to occur but _of course,_ today of all days is the one day where his computer seems to be in perfect working condition. 

Neither Alex or Max have been able to get a word out of him since he woke up that morning with bags under his eyes and a sunken, dull pain that creases at the corners of them. They tried, they tried to talk to him but it became clear almost immediately that Charles didn’t want to speak, wasn’t going to and was probably only going to talk if he was spoken to first. 

That seems like a disaster waiting to happen in all honesty. 

Charles never shuts up, usually, no wonder everybody is sending him concerned glances as they walk past, pretending they’re not looking at Charles but he _knows_ he must look like shit and his entire demeanour is something that they’re not used to. 

It’s only when he returns to his desk with _another_ cup of coffee does his eyes finally settle on the post-it note that has been stuck to the base of the monitor. 

**_Had to do a lot of reprogramming but it means  
_ _you shouldn’t have any more issues! :) x Pierre_ **

In true Charles fashion, he overthinks it and promptly has to blink back the burning in the corners of his eyes, tears of fucking frustration, the lack of sleep, the fact his glasses are hurting his eyes - a mixture of everything, or maybe he just misses Pierre. 

He translates the note as _you don’t need to contact me anymore_ and truthfully, Charles thinks his heart shatters at that particular thought and he’s up and out of the office before Alex has finished calling his name. He bounds down the stairs until he’s out of breath and reaches the ground floor, flashing a quick, distracted smile at Dilara before rushing down the hallway until he finds the black door with IT emblazoned in white letters. 

He knocks on the door and waits for a reply but he doesn’t get one, even after knocking a couple of more times and he tries to look through the small window but all he can see is computers and a jacket hung over the back of one of the chairs. 

He sighs and turns around walking straight into someone-

“Sorry about that, did you need help?” A voice asks him, it’s deeper, different, 

Charles glances up but shakes his head. “No, sorry, I was just looking for someone.” 

“Pierre?” 

“Yeah… how did-?” Charles asks but stops himself when the realisation hits him like a tonne of bricks, or he puts two and two together. “Are you Dany?”

Part of Charles wants it to be him, 

The majority of him doesn’t want Dany to be standing directly in front of him. 

“I am, so by process of elimination, you’re Charles.” 

Charles nods and mutters _guilty_ with a deep sigh before meeting Dany’s eyes again, “do you know where Pierre is?” 

“Not sure, he called in sick this morning and texted me just as I got here to not expect him but he didn’t seem _that_ sick, I _know_ when he’s sick so not sure, why?” Dany asks him, 

Charles shrugs and feels the dread sinking deeper into his stomach, “no reason, I just wanted to talk to him, thanks though.” 

Charles doesn’t give Dany a chance to respond before he’s walking past and to the lifts not wanting to walk up a hundred flights of stairs (he’s letting himself off with being dramatic this time). 

He deserves all the dramatics without the added regret that comes hours later. 

***

Charles is so tired that he completely forgets about meeting Toto and is only reminded when he sees him walk into the office stopping just outside as he takes a phone call and he _panics._

“Fuck me, seriously. Fuck me. Oh my god.” Charles whispers to himself, minimising the programme he’s currently on and trying to steal a glance at his client still engaged on the phone.

Charles watches as the call seemingly ends as Toto catches his eye as he enters and walks towards Seb’s office and Charles faceplants his desk when he’s sure that his client is out of sight and mutters a string of swear words in both English and French. 

_Oh my god,_ he really forgot all about it, he’s an absolute fucking mess, he’s not in the right frame of mind for this. He looks through the windows at Toto, Lewis and Seb engaged in a conversation and tries to prepare himself.

“Oh, fuck, Alex.” Charles hisses, “I forgot I was supposed to meet with Toto today and now he’s here but I’m- fuck. I’m going to fuck this up so bad.” 

“No, you won’t, he’s only here to see your progress, ask you the stuff _you already know_ it’s not like he’s going to expect you to run through your entire presentation.” Alex explains, getting up from his desk and walking around, dropping his hands onto Charles’ shoulders, “just don’t overthink it, you don’t need to overthink it.” 

“Don’t overthink it.” Charles repeats, easier said than done, mind you.

Alex glances up as the door slides open with Toto and Lewis laughing together and his grip automatically tightens on Charles’ shoulder before he lets go and dives to sit back down at his desk when the laughter dies down and Toto instantly makes a b-line for Charles who stands up ready to greet him with a handshake, 

“Good afternoon, Charles, a pleasure to see you again.” Toto greets him with a warm smile, 

Charles smiles back, adding a _you too_ before Toto starts to ask him about the project and some responses are instinctive but with the others they’re just questions he’s answered numerous times. Charles pushes his hand behind his back so that he can fiddle with his watch and fidget to try and keep himself from descending into a full blown panic at how off his game he must seem.

Charles catches Alex’s eyes and smiles slightly when Alex nods reassuringly at him. 

“Everything on schedule?” 

The question pulls him back into the room. 

“Of course, I’m ahead at the moment and I’m looking forward to the presentation.” Charles tells him, it’s a flat out lie, he’s still wracked with nerves but he doesn’t want to come across like he can’t do it. “If anything I just have a bunch of editing to make sure there’s no continuity errors or obvious mistakes that I’ll never be able to live down.” Charles smiles, it’s almost cheeky, knowing that his bosses and best friend are in earshot. 

“I’m meeting with one of my business associates tomorrow, he’ll be accompanying me to the presentation - don’t worry about that though, crowds haven’t struck me as a concern for you - but soon, I’d like to get together and discuss this more… who knows, I have a wide range of projects that have been kept under wraps.”

Charles _swears_ he stops breathing for a second, he hasn’t even had this confirmed and Toto is _already_ hinting at future projects. Is he really _that_ good? He might faint, not from the realisation, he’s just exhausted. 

“Good to hear.” Toto nods, glances down at his watch, “ah, I’m sorry it was only just a check-in but I do have to meet another client soon, but you know I’m in London now and we _will_ take some time next week to do a more thorough check in. Keep up the good work, Charles.” 

Charles nods and waves watching until Toto is out of sight before he slumps back in his chair and buries his head in his arms, too much to think about, not enough sleep to even begin to contemplate it.

***

The weekend is a fucking disaster to say the least. 

Charles can’t concentrate on his work, he can’t even put pen to paper to doodle to try and take his mind off everything, he just keeps waiting for his phone to light up with a text from Pierre. 

Max and Alex make for the best distractions they can be and after catching Charles staring at his phone one too many times Max confiscates it and slides it into his pocket refusing to give it back. 

“I’m not even dating him, why do I miss him this fucking much?” Charles asks neither of them, arms curled around his knees as he tries to focus on the film playing on the TV. “I should have just asked him, now everything is awkward.” 

_“Charlie.”_ Alex sighs, sitting on the floor opposite leaning against his arms. “First of all, stop being such a dramatic bastard and second if you miss him then just talk to him.” 

“I _can’t,_ Alex, it’s been days, he probably hates me.” Charles moans, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets and falling flat against the couch. “Also, Max has my phone.” 

Charles had caved on Friday night after getting home from work and filled in his best friends on everything that had happened with Pierre since the week before even showing the message thread between them, giving up the secrecy, not finding it fun anymore. 

“I just had some kind of mini freak out, I _like_ him, I like him a lot and I don’t know - finding out that he likes me but not from him? It didn’t feel right and I just needed to be alone or not with him.” Charles continues to talk, “I know I should have texted him to reassure him he did nothing wrong or whatever but I just couldn’t.” 

“Here.” Max says and hands Charles his phone back, “text him, don’t text him but Alex _is_ right, talk to him, the silent treatment never solved anything.” 

“Says the King of the silent treatment.” Charles snorts but holds his phone close to his chest anyway. “I remember you didn’t talk to me for a week when we were in uni because I accidentally used a knife to unclog the sink and it snapped and got stuck.” 

_“Exactly Charles!_ It snapped and got stuck in the sink and almost flooded the kitchen and we had to pay a fine.” Max huffs, “I still don’t know why you thought it was a good idea to use a _knife.”_

“It’s _metal!”_ Charles exclaims, “I thought it would be strong enough!” 

Alex looks between his two friends silently thanking the fact that he went to university in Sheffield, far away from them, god _knows,_ he wouldn’t have survived. 

The bickering does eventually die down after twenty or so minutes but it takes him almost an hour longer to muster up the energy and swallow down the regret before he texts Pierre, it’s a rambly message that would make him cringe if he didn’t feel like complete and utter shit. 

**[Charles]** _hey. i know it's been a few days but i just didn't know what to say but i'm sorry for the way i reacted and how i left and if you don't hate me (it's ok if you do haha) would you like to go and get coffee so i can explain properly instead of over text?_

 **[Pierre]** _sure x_

**[Pierre]** _I can't do it today but we can meet tomorrow at 1?_

 **[Charles]** _sounds good :)_

Charles feels a _little_ better afterwards knowing that Pierre doesn’t completely despise him and Alex and Max share a relieved glance that Charles might stop moping around their apartment looking like he’s had his soul sucked out of him. 

****

***

****

They agree to meet at the coffee shop they went to the other day and the entire time Charles is nervous, wrapping his coat further around himself as he waits for Pierre trying not to believe he’s been stood enough.

****

He hasn’t. 

****

He sees Pierre walk around the corner and smile thinly when he catches Charles’ gaze as he crosses the road and approaches him. 

****

“Hey.” 

****

“Hey.” 

****

They mirror their greetings and it elicits a small, nervous smile from the both of them before Pierre pulls open the door to the coffee shop and allows Charles to walk in first, Charles buys them their coffee as the _start_ of his apology and they settle themselves in a corner far enough away from anybody else. 

****

The silence stretches on between the pair of them for a few minutes, Charles drinking his coffee and letting it burn his tongue to avoid talking but eventually he does catch Pierre’s eyes and sighs,

****

“About what happened - I didn’t mean to run off like that or make it seem like you had done something wrong because really it was all my fault, I’m such an idiot and you’re going to think the same.” Charles laughs sadly at his own expense before bringing up the hardest part, he’s gone over it a hundred times to try and find a way to say it that won’t make Pierre feel embarrassed but in every scenario, he just sees Pierre’s face fall. “When you gave me your laptop to work on, you had your - um - messages still open and Dany, yeah, there were messages about me or I think they were - I don’t know how many Charles’ you know-”

****

“- Oh my fucking god, shit, Charles I’m _so_ sorry.” Pierre interrupts, his cheeks bright red and he looks around like he’s trying to find the nearest exit. “I thought I’d closed them, oh fuck, I’m so sorry for making you uncomfortable-”

****

“- No, _no_ Pierre, that’s not it.” Charles tries but Pierre looks on the verge of bolting so Charles reaches forward and grasps Pierre’s hand between his fingers, “just let me explain, okay?” 

****

Pierre remains reluctant but he doesn’t stop Charles. 

****

“I like you, a lot, honestly ask my friends and they’ll tell you how much of a stupid crush I have on you but I didn’t know if you felt the same and I was too scared to ask so when I saw that I guess I just panicked and had to call my best friend to tell me what to do.” Charles explains and he can see a flash of relief colour Pierre’s cheeks, “he told me I should just ask you if you wanted to go out sometime, not even as a date but as friends but if we ended up calling it a date then things had worked out, you know?” 

****

Pierre nods, he’s still reasonably unconvinced though so Charles continues, 

****

“It was good advice, actually I think it’s the best advice he’s ever given me but I just saw you when you came to check on me and when you apologised for making me uncomfortable? It just got too much and I ran away but you _didn’t_ make me uncomfortable. I'm just a stubborn shit who doesn’t know how to deal with emotions.” Charles smiles and it brings a small but _definitely_ a smile to the corners of Pierre’s mouth too. “That’s why I didn’t text or anything like that and I tried to go down to your office on Friday to talk to you then but Dany said you were sick?” 

****

“I was avoiding you, not intentionally, well, I guess it was intentionally but I just felt bad.” Pierre shrugs, “I hope I didn’t make you feel a lot worse.” 

****

“Don’t worry about me,” Charles dismisses, “I’m kind of dramatic anyway so my friends are used to it and they finally made me text you and I wanted to but I didn’t know what to say or anything like that but I just knew we needed to talk about it.” 

****

“I’m glad we talked.” 

****

Charles smiles and lifts the mug up to drink his coffee, glancing down to his and Pierre’s hands still tangled together.

****

They’re quiet for a few minutes afterwards just letting everything soak in against the sound of toddlers running around, babies crying and conversations happening in every direction.

****

“Charles? Where do we go from here?” Pierre asks him, 

****

“It depends on how much you think I messed up.” Charles grumbles, dropping his chin onto his hand and avoiding Pierre’s eyes, 

****

“Charles… I still like you and I think it’s clear that you like me too, so how about a date?” Pierre suggests, 

****

Charles snaps his head up so quickly that he almost drops his arm into his cup of coffee. “You want to go on a date?” 

****

“Yes, quite a lot actually.” Pierre chuckles, 

****

Charles wants to die hearing the sound of Pierre’s laugh. 

****

“I’d love to.” 

****

They end up staying for nearly two hours before Pierre has to get back home to sort things out but agree to having their date on Wednesday night and Pierre leaves him with a kiss on his cheek. 

****

“Oh my god.” Charles mumbles to himself, pulling his phone out of his pocket and texting Alex and Max.

****

**[Charles]** _GUESS WHO HAS A DATE U FUCKERS_

 **[Alex]** _not max_

 **[Max]** _fuck off alex_

 **[Charles]** _alex you are right x_

 **[Charles]** _I HAVE A DATE_

 **[Charles]** _pierre actually asked me on a date can you believe it_

 **[Max]** _PEACE AT LAST_

**[Charles] 🖕**

**[Alex] 🖕**

*** 

****

“I don’t think you’re paying us enough to help you!” Max calls out as Charles walks out of the meeting room, 

****

“I’m not paying you at all what the fuck are you on about?” Charles asks, stopping and turning around to look back into the room at his best friend. 

****

“You _should_ be paying us.” Max mutters, sticking his tongue out, 

****

“Mature. Whatever you want I’ll get it but I know you and I know you’re going to ask for pizza.” 

****

Charles takes Max’s silence as knowing he’s going to ask for pizza (seven years of friendship has given Charles the ability to read Max’s mind even if sometimes it presents itself as the biggest curse to ever hang over his head) and walks back out of the meeting room to go and grab the last remaining of the presentation boards lined up against his desk to drag them inside and slide them over to the stands. 

****

It was Alex’s idea to have a practice run through of his presentation and of _course_ the both of them roped Max into it unsuspecting. 

****

_Can I heckle you?_ Charles had rolled his eyes at that particular question and quipped that it wasn’t a comedy gig but that didn’t stop Max from sitting on the table and telling Charles that he sucked. 

****

(Whether or not Charles proceeds to make a joke about sucking dicks will forever remain a mystery). 

****

Charles sets up the presentation and connects Alex’s laptop to the screen at the front of the room (because his idiot self accidentally hit something on his own laptop and caused it to have some kind of fit) as Alex and Max make themselves comfortable on the table and Charles goes through his presentation. 

****

He has his entire presentation typed out on four sheets of paper in his hands, it’s eight months of hard work all typed up and in front of him and truthfully, Charles’ first thought is that it doesn’t look like a lot which he knows is ridiculous as he flicks the corners of the first page. 

****

In hindsight, it’s not the best idea to have his two best friends who with just a _look_ can make Charles start to laugh uncontrollably be the audience but he gets through his speech, finds mistakes that need to be fixed and overall, he just feels an odd surge of pride in his chest. 

****

Eight months of hard work, late nights, texting the group chat at ungodly hours of the morning asking if it’s too late to back out, lying on the floor and rethinking his entire existence and how he should have stuck to the dream of being a dinosaur as a kid (in his defence he was five). 

****

(A racing driver actually seemed the more viable option). 

****

(Architecture won out though, clearly). 

****

A knock on the door, 

****

It swings open and Pierre stands in the doorway holding Charles’ laptop in his hand, one-handed, _no,_ Charles _doesn’t_ find that attractive.

****

(he does). 

****

He’s truly done for, isn’t he? 

****

“I have _no_ idea what you did but it’s working again.” Pierre chuckles as he walks inside and places the laptop carefully on the table, “it took me ages to figure out what you had done but in the end I just… gave up and reset it and hoped for the best.” 

****

Charles blushes, he’s not even embarrassed anymore by how useless he is when it comes to breaking all forms of technology and instead he curls his fingers around Pierre’s wrist and squeezes it gratefully, 

****

“You’re my hero.” Charles murmurs, his cheeks bright red as he catches Alex and Max sitting forward with their chins resting on their hands looking between the both of them as though they’re a film in motion. “Can you two chill?” 

****

“Max, Charles’ best friend of seven years and the only person who is able to put up with him when he’s at his most dramatic and this is Alex, he looks after us when we get too drunk.” Max introduces them, both of them shaking Pierre’s hand. 

****

_“When you get too drunk? You have one beer and claim you can fly, Max!”_ Alex points out, grinning at the embarrassment forming on his cheeks,

****

It doesn’t mean Charles’ best friend breaks his stride though.

****

“Charles told us you were hot, in fact, it’s all he ever talks about… we didn’t realise you were this hot-”

****

“- Oh my god. Shut the fuck up, Max!” Charles squawks, covering his face with his hands as Pierre looks around awkwardly yet slightly amused and the quirk of a smile almost has Charles telling him to shut up too. “Max, I swear to god I will punch you so hard, stop talking.” 

****

“We’re just getting to know him, so, Pierre, what season would you prefer to get marri-?”

****

Max doesn’t have a chance to finish his question before Charles is rounding the table and pouncing on him and shutting him up through the laughter that he’s trying so hard to stifle, 

****

“You fucker.” 

****

Max just winks in response. 

****

“Pierre, I am _so_ sorry, oh my god, please pretend that they’re not here.” Charles whines, whining harder when he feels Alex unsympathetically patting him on the back, clearly enjoying it as much as Max is despite Charles trying his hardest to keep him from talking. 

****

Pierre still has that half amused smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he raises his eyebrows at both Alex and Max, 

****

“It’s great to meet you two, I’ll see you later, Charles.” Pierre leans in and kisses Charles’ cheek gently.

****

That bastard. 

****

He knew _exactly_ what he was doing. 

****

Charles can’t even be annoyed, he just smiles in Pierre’s direction as he leaves the room and in his head counts down from five before Alex and Max are in his ears talking a mile a minute. 

****

He absolutely _despises_ them. 

****

(He doesn’t, they share the same brain cell as him and he’d be _so_ miserable without them). 

****

(He hates them though). 

****

“Do you think he’d get offended if I asked to touch his hair? It looks _so_ fucking soft.” Alex asks, 

****

“Go for it, it can’t be any more awkward than Charles asking him if he can pull it.” 

****

“Max!” 

****

Max starts to laugh at the aghast expression on his best friend’s face, shaking his head and watching Charles beg for the ground to swallow him up. 

****

Idiots, the pair of them. 

****

*** 

****

Charles looks around the restaurant, the chandelier overhead hangs down the middle of the room glistening against the mirrors and the flower boxes that adorn a pathway, it looks expensive, a starter is going to be much more expensive than the entire contents of his fridge. 

****

Max would be _so_ jealous. Charles wonders if he should try and bring Pierre here one day, he’d look stunning illuminated by the golden hue of the lighting. 

****

Hell, Pierre would look heaven sent no matter what. 

****

“It’s looking impressive, Charles, are you all but done now?” Toto asks him, 

****

“I think so, if anything it’s just rearranging and constantly checking it until my eyes burn but I have the biggest stuff done and out of the way, you know? I think it’s just going to be editing and practicing so that I don’t mess up anything or miss out a major detail.” Charles shrugs, he’s trying not to think too much about it before he thinks himself into a panic. “I know I said that the other day but that’s _really_ where I’m at, I’m going to be ready for Monday.” 

****

“Glad to hear it,” 

****

Charles sits back and looks around the restaurant, he still can’t believe it’s the week of the presentation, almost a year’s work and planning has just flown by as though it was yesterday and now he’s on the verge of _maybe_ getting the biggest deal he could ever imagine.

****

In the back of his eyes he can still remember the day that it all began, it was one of the hottest days of the year and Charles was three seconds away from lying on the floor in the hopes of cooling down in the office when Lewis called him into his and Seb stood there with Toto fucking Wolff. 

****

Charles had heard stories, he’d heard the majority of them from his bosses and from ridiculous news articles from bitter architects calling him a nightmare but he stood there and introduced himself to Charles and he remembers his brain refusing to cooperate for a good ten minutes. 

****

He can’t even remember the first thing that Toto said to him but he does remember the way that Seb and Lewis had identical smiles on their faces as they stood over to the side of the office. Charles didn’t think _that_ was going to happen, he remembers parts when Toto was complimenting some of the designs and how he’d heard about him from back in his UCL days. 

****

It was still so absurd. It wasn’t until Toto stuck his hand out towards him and uttered the words, _I want you to design a new headquarters for my company_ that Charles snapped back to reality and stared at Toto as if he had lost his mind completely. Here was, Toto Wolff asking _him_ to come up with a design. 

****

He had a client,

****

A top client. 

****

Toto talks about the associates that he’s bringing to the presentation on Monday and Charles nods, terrified to miss a word or a vital piece of information but really he’s just talking about his colleagues and Charles is _okay,_ Toto knows that he doesn’t mind speaking in front of a lot of people.

****

He knows Seb and Lewis aren’t putting too much pressure on him, they’re being honest and open instead and are adamant that even if he doesn’t get the job they’re not going to be disappointed. 

****

Charles would hate to disappoint them though, he’d hate to disappoint himself, to disappoint Max, Alex and Pierre. 

****

He balls his hands up into fists and exhales a deep breath, _no,_ he’s going to get this job, he knows he has the talent and the courage to do something unexpected and _maybe,_ pulling off the unexpected might be the tipping point to getting it. 

****

Charles almost smiles at the thought. 

****

*** 

****

“Oh my god, I’m panicking, I’m really fucking panicking, oh my god. What do I wear? What if I’m overdressed? I don’t even know what we’re doing. Jesus fucking Christ-”

****

Max wraps his hand around Charles’ arm to stop him pacing and burning a hole into his bedroom carpet, 

****

“Pierre just said he’d pick me up at seven but that’s it - he didn’t tell me where we’re going and what if I get really dressed up and he takes me to McDonalds or something like that?” Charles asks in a frenzied state, his head on the verge of exploding as he falls face first onto his bed. 

****

“First of all, there’s nothing wrong with McDonalds - don’t act like you didn’t make me take you there at three in the morning, _every_ morning during exams but I seriously don’t think he’s going to take you there so just wear a nice shirt and jeans, you dickhead and stop panicking before you pass out and miss the date all together.” 

****

Charles rolls onto his back, his hair still damp and dripping onto his bed sheets as he stares up at the ceiling humming in agreement at Max’s words. 

****

Most of the time, Charles has a list of regrets about his friendship with Max that could start at his apartment and finish back home in Monaco but truthfully, he’s grateful for him, there’s nothing quite like calling Charles out to get him up and ready for his date - that kind of thing only works if Max is doing it. 

****

Max takes his seat and sprawls out onto Charles’ bed when he gets up to pull some clothes out of his wardrobe and drape them over his bed ready to decide what to wear, the shirts keep coming and Max judges him over the top of his phone when another one is added onto the pile.

****

“Okay! I think you have enough, can I choose?” Max asks, dropping his phone to the bed, 

****

“No, you dress like my grandpa, I am _not_ letting you choose my date outfit.” Charles snorts and pushes Max out of the way as he looks through the pile of shirts on the bed.

****

The problem is Charles is too _fussy_ to decide what to wear and Max is looking at him like his best friend has lost his mind completely because _it’s not hard to match a shirt with black jeans, Charles!_

****

Charles is sitting on the floor beside his bed, face smushed into his duvet as he mumbles incoherent words causing Max to mutter and call Charles out for the fact his best friend would never get anything done if it wasn’t for him. 

****

“You’re actually pathetic, Leclerc.” Max snorts and picks out a shirt holding it out to him, “I saved your arse again, now get dressed before he turns up.” 

****

Charles takes the blue, patterned shirt and grabs his jeans before getting dressed, Max’s attention is already back on his phone as the front door to Charles’ apartment opens and shuts and Alex’s voice calls out their names from the hallway before he appears at the bedroom door. 

****

“Charlie, how many times do we have to tell you to _stop_ putting your spare key under the doormat?” Alex asks him, 

****

“Another time?” Charles replies, sticking his tongue between his teeth. 

****

He finishes buttoning up his shirt before spinning around to face his friends, “alright, how do I look?” 

****

“Fuck Pierre, _I’ll_ date you.” Alex comments, whistling at Charles who just winks back at him but not before he catches the look that Max sends Alex,

****

It’s gone immediately after though.

****

“Sorry babe, I’m all Pierre’s tonight, how about tomorrow?” 

****

The look on Max’s face appears again for another split second before it’s gone again and Charles makes a note to ask his best friend about that after his date. 

****

Charles turns back around to face his mirror and brush his fingers through his hair continually until the longer strands are twisted and sticking up in all angles that he desperately tries to fix just as the buzzer for his apartment rings, Alex jumping up and going to answer it leaving Charles to pull his jacket from the back of the chair and turn around to Max,

****

“Don’t fuck it up,” 

****

Charles doesn’t reply back with a snarky reply, he just smiles instead, “trust me, I won’t.” 

****

Max humours him as he pulls himself up from the bed and pushes his best friend out of the bedroom to just in front of Pierre who stops the small-talk with Alex as soon as his gaze falls on Charles, mouth melting into a smile that could save a thousand lives. 

****

“You look-” Pierre starts to say but stops and takes a sharp intake of breath “- incredible, Charles.” 

****

(Charles rolls his eyes at the overly-enthusiastic sound effects coming from his two friends behind him).

****

“You look - so good - I love your jacket.” Charles breathes out,

****

_“Try harder.”_ Max coughs, hiding it behind an amused smile that Alex is trying to hide too. _“Yeah, tell him those jeans-”_

****

Charles doesn’t even let Max finish that particular sentence.

****

“Okay! We’re leaving because I don’t need the added commentary, thanks.” Charles grumbles, flipping off his two best friends as he leads Pierre towards the front door. “I’m sorry about rushing but I _swear_ they have been waiting for this all week and I wanted to leave before they brought out the PowerPoint presentation on all my bad decisions.” 

****

“Is there a lot?” Pierre asks, slightly intrigued, a little concerned, mostly his eyes are filled with an emotion that Charles can’t quite put his finger on,

****

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see. Do you know where we’re going?” Charles asks, sticking his hands in his pockets even though Pierre’s hand is right there and he _wants_ to hold it, 

****

“The Tube station - don’t give me that look-” Pierre chuckles “- it’s the quickest way.” 

****

“I never said anything!” Charles exclaims through a small bout of laughter, digging his heels into the ground,

****

“When was the last time you went on it?” Pierre asks, 

****

“Okay so I graduated from university _two_ years ago… so, two years? I just never really have the need for it, I live close to work _and_ usually I just get Max to drive me everywhere.” Charles shrugs,

****

“You really have him wrapped around your finger, huh?” Pierre asks, the station coming into view before them, 

****

“Are you jealous?” 

****

“We’ll see.” Pierre replies, if not a little cryptically. 

****

The sun has already set and the streetlights illuminate the rain-soaked pavements in a soft orange that glistens as Charles walks in-step with Pierre, their arms brushing as they do as they duck and dive to the side to avoid colliding with people. 

****

“What are we doing?” Charles asks once they’re inside the station and walking down the stairs,

****

Pierre just smiles to himself leading Charles to look horrified, 

****

“Don’t say a surprise.” He practically begs, 

****

Pierre chuckles at the whining in Charles’ voice, “I wasn’t going to but yes it is _but_ I’ll give you a clue-” 

****

Charles waits, raising his eyebrows,

****

“- How competitive are you?” Pierre asks, 

****

Charles laughs nervously, pushing his hands deeper into his pockets as he stands in front of Pierre. 

****

It’s not that Charles _is_ competitive but he is, so badly. 

****

He’s _awful_ playing games with Max and Alex because he takes it too seriously at times. 

****

He just wants to be the best and he’s willing to smack his best friend with the game board to be just that. 

****

He’s really lucky that Max hasn’t suggested darts yet. 

****

“I’m not _that_ competitive.” Charles says, he knows it’s a lie and the smile feels a tad forced,

****

“So, you are competitive?” Pierre asks not believing him for a second, “good, me too.” Pierre adds, reaching forward and circling his fingers around Charles’ wrist, an unreadable glimmer in his eyes as he does.

****

Charles pulls his hand out of his pocket and holds it out for Pierre to shake, unable to hide the lovestruck grin that’s tugging at the corners of his mouth,

****

“May the best man win.” 

****

“You’re on.” 

****

They shake hands and let go but before Charles can drop his arm back to his side completely, Pierre reaches forward and threads his fingers through Charles’ own, their hands joined together in the middle of them. Pierre’s fingers are soft yet calloused against Charles’ and it feels strangely how Charles had expected their hands to feel pressed together and he can’t tear his eyes away from them. Charles is completely aware that his face feels like it’s being hit by thirty degree sunshine and almost likely to be bright red but Pierre is smiling at him like they’re the only people waiting and it’s _not_ still deep in rush hour. 

****

Only the sound of the train arriving can finally snap him back to reality as it pulls to a stop in front of them. 

****

Charles loses his balance a good few times, it’s been a _while_ and he leans against Pierre for support as he drowns out the incessant chatter coming from every angle of the carriage that they’re in. He looks up and follows the different train lines and reads the name of every station in his head to try and distract himself from how good that Pierre’s aftershave is and how Pierre has his arm loosely hung around Charles’ waist to keep him from stumbling and falling into the doors. 

****

This is what Charles has wanted for _months,_ he remembers the first time that his computer crashed in the way it did - he’s never completely agreed with the whole _falling in love with someone’s voice,_ he’s not particular by any stretch but the thought seemed absurd. 

****

Pierre answered the phone and the reluctance to accept that theory had been thrown out of the window with a _hello, IT, can I help?_ said in a French accent that had caught Charles so far off-guard it’s a surprise he remembered how to speak. 

****

“Do you remember the first time we spoke?” Charles asks as the train draws to a gradual stop, “the first time I… broke… my computer.” 

****

Pierre thinks for barely a moment before nodding, “I thought it was someone who had dialled the wrong department at first, you just stayed silent for so long. I was about to hang up when you finally _screamed_ that your computer had died.” 

****

“I didn’t scream.” Charles frowns, narrowing his eyes

****

That doesn’t deter Pierre, “you did, my ears were ringing for the rest of the day.” 

****

Charles at least has the decency to look moderately horrified at that sudden revelation but even that particular knot of information cannot completely wipe away the hint of a smile that’s permanently threatening to form in the corners of Charles’ mouth. 

****

“Look at us now, it worked.” 

****

“What worked?” Pierre asks him,

****

Charles stops himself, blinking and pushing loose strands of his hair away from his eyes as he steps down onto the platform, turning around and once again meeting Pierre’s eyes on the dimly lit underground. 

****

“We’re on a date, aren’t we?”

****

Pierre swipes up Charles’ hand in his own and presses a kiss so light to his knuckles that Charles thinks he might just pass out on the spot, a terrible idea given how disgusting and dirty the platform ground looks. 

****

“We’re on a date.” Pierre confirms, brushing his thumb across the top of Charles’ knuckles,

****

Charles’ shoe sticks to the stairs as they walk up them, the cold air blowing through the tube station entrance hits him full force in the face as he instantly hunches his shoulder to try and hide behind the collar of his jacket. 

****

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing yet?” 

****

“You’re kind of needy.” Pierre chuckles, voice laced with an undeniable fondness that twists everything in Charles’ stomach completely upside down. 

****

“Kind of? Thank you, I’ll raise it to _extremely needy.”_ Charles teases, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth as he catches the half lovestruck, half amused look on Pierre’s face. “You don’t believe me, do you?” Charles asks, feeling like a kid with a crush.

****

(He’s not, he’s an adult with very real feelings). 

****

“I believe you, Charles.” Pierre says to him, his name rolling off Pierre’s tongue like he’s said it a thousand times before. “But just because I believe, it does not mean I’m going to tell you where we’re going-”

****

Charles raises his eyebrows, _“please.”_

****

The soft _merde_ that Pierre puffs out with a short breath has the corners of Charles’ mouth starting to twitch,

****

“Mini golf.” Pierre eventually gives in and tells him, 

****

Charles’ eyes light up, “I’m great at it, also real golf, kind of, I played a little as a kid with my dad but _mini golf,_ we went for Max’s birthday when we were back in university and I crushed him so badly that he told me I ruined his birthday.” 

****

Pierre looks slightly terrified at that new piece of information, slowing down his pace as he watches the smug grin remain firmly plastered to every inch of Charles’ mouth as he shrugs, 

****

“It was years ago, he’s forgiven me for it now.” Charles adds as though it’s supposed to lessen the fear in Pierre’s eyes. “I can go easy on you?” He suggests when Pierre is still yet to verbally respond,

****

“No, don’t, I think _that_ makes me like you more.” Pierre finally utters, snapping back to reality and the freezing February wind in central London that’s attacking them. 

****

Charles presses himself closer against Pierre’s side, looking good over not freezing to death - that had been what had been running in the back of Charles’ mind as he shrugged on a light jacket that he shouldn’t be classing as _good enough_ for another few months. 

****

It’s still the beginning of February but the more that Charles begins to think about it, it feels like it should be at least May with everything that seems to have occurred in the last couple of weeks. 

****

Pierre notices the shiver that Charles is trying and incredibly failing to hide, untangles their fingers and slides his arm around Charles’ shoulder instead, pulling him until they’re pressed so close together that even through his jacket, Charles can feel how toned Pierre’s chest feels. 

****

The Gherkin, still a ridiculous name for a building, comes into sight in front of them leading Charles to open his mouth to ask _where_ they’re going before Pierre entwines his fingers through Charles’ once again and leads him down a smaller alley instead until they come to an underground building. 

****

“Swingers? _Pierre, qu’est-ce qui se passe?”_ Charles asks him, coming to a complete halt, 

****

“It’s still mini golf, Charles.” Pierre soothes, “I was going to keep it a surprise because it would have been _funny_ to see your reaction without knowing what we were doing but _this_ works too.” He shrugs, fighting back an amused grin at the scepticism that covers every inch of Charles’ face. “It’s 1920s themed” 

****

“Ready to get crushed, Gatsby-style?” Charles asks him, raising his left eyebrow, 

****

Pierre hesitates before holding out his hand towards Charles, “whenever you’re ready, _old sport.”_

****

Charles is absolutely certain that he could die on the spot.

****

He takes Pierre’s hand and the noise from inside fills their ears immediately, looking around the venue is adorned with pastel coloured flowers and Charles can’t figure out where to look first. Through the crowds though, he sees it and he presses his fingers into Pierre’s arm-

****

“There’s a hole with a _ferris wheel!”_

****

The excitable squeak in Charles’ voice has Pierre glancing down to him, unable to fight back the surge of warmth in his chest at how downright adorable he looks, eyes too busy to focus and Pierre knows the night has barely even begun. 

****

Charles starts to talk a mile a minute, sometimes speaking before he’s even had a chance to think about what he wants to say next, still caught up in looking around and managing to zone out yet still be completely aware of his surroundings.

****

“Pierre, look at _this.”_

****

Pierre allows himself to be dragged in every different direction as Charles tries to get a better view of the different holes that are sucking him into feeling like he’s slap bang in the middle of the English countryside. 

****

“Can we play now?” Charles asks, there’s a glimmer of that competitiveness in his eyes that Pierre saw before as he reaches out and presses his fingers against the cuff of Pierre’s jacket, holding his wrist. 

****

Pierre gives his name in for the booking and they grab a golf club each before following the small crowd around and Charles’ eyes light up when the ferris wheel comes into view. They play rock, paper, scissors to decide who goes first and when paper beats rock, Charles curls his fingers around Pierre’s and lingers there for a few moments to pass in the beating in their chests and the sound of the golf balls bouncing and rolling away. 

****

Charles sets himself and hits the ball, it bounces off the board and bounces almost all the way back to his foot, Charles’ cheeks flushing pink under the overhead lights. 

****

“That was a practice shot!” He suddenly defends himself, spinning around to catch the raised eyebrows that Pierre is sending his way. “I can do _so_ much better,” 

****

Pierre just smiles as Charles steadies himself again, the look of concentration that flashes across his face warms Pierre’s heart, he _likes_ mini golf and he thought it would be fun but to see Charles as into it as he actually is, well, that’s just everything. 

****

The second attempt goes a lot better and he steps aside watching the way that the lights reflect off Pierre’s jacket as he steadies himself and sends the ball around the curve, 

****

“Show off.” Charles mutters, voice laced with nothing but sheer affection, jaw starting to hurt from smiling so much as Pierre leans against the golf club. “Long way to go yet,” 

****

They swap places and Charles watches as the ball glides across and lands with a satisfying tap of plastic against plastic in the hole. 

****

“Three, not bad.” Pierre teases, squeezing Charles’ hip as they switch, 

****

Pierre hits the ball and it skips over the hole much to Charles’ amusement and before Pierre has had a chance to fully turn around-

****

“Three, not bad.” Charles mimics, smile as bright as the white light above his head. “You were saying?” 

****

“Long way to go yet,” Pierre echoes Charles from before, reaching for his hand as they grab the balls and move over to the second hole. 

****

Charles _knows_ he means the game but that doesn’t stop his heart beating out of his chest at the long evening ahead, of what could come afterwards, it’s exciting and it’s scary and it’s somehow the most relaxed that Charles has felt since the turn of the year. 

****

“I told you I was good.” Charles says with a wink, holding the golf club behind his shoulders, forgetting what he wants to say next when he notices the lights are a soft pink and landing in Pierre’s hair “um - one time we were playing mini golf, me and Max and we were at the windmill and he hit the ball so hard he chipped part of it.” 

****

Pierre starts to laugh, Charles is done for. 

****

Charles is leading by the end of the third hole even though there’s only one stroke in it when they decide to take a break, or, Charles keeps seeing people eating fries and can’t think about anything else. 

****

The table is next to the window with flower boxes adorning the sides and making a pathway between the tables as Pierre shrugs his jacket off and drops it over the back of his chair as the tray of food sits in front of him and the two bottles of beer are off to the side underneath the window. 

****

“Tell me something about yourself.” Charles breaks the silence, barely a silence, they’ve only just sat down after all. 

****

“What do you want to know?” Pierre asks, slightly curious, he’s in his twenties - there’s a lot to pick from. 

****

“University, your family, I don’t know, _anything.”_ Charles pushes, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth as he rests his chin on his hands, resisting the urge to lean forward and brush Pierre’s hair out of his eyes, tangling his fingers in it, doing whatever to be close to him. 

****

“I went to university in Milan-”

****

“- Milan?” Charles interrupts, “why Milan?” 

****

“Where did _you_ go?” 

****

“Here, London.” Charles shrugs, blowing it off like it’s not a big deal (he knows it is, he worked night and day to get accepted). “I wanted the best school,” 

****

“Me too,” Pierre smiles softly, 

****

Charles digs his heels into the ground as the soft smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth starts to appear, unable to stop it, not wanting to as the _tell me more_ seemingly gets lost in the sound of different conversations coming from every direction. 

****

Charles slowly eats the fries, dipping them in sauce absentmindedly whilst unable to tear his gaze away from Pierre as he talks about what Charles mentioned between different bites of food. He sees the love in Pierre’s eyes when he talks about his family, Charles almost fawns over how downright fucking beautiful Pierre looks when he gets lost in thought, to try and remember what he’s going to say next.

****

It’s the swirling in his stomach that’s the confirmation of everything he’s known, it’s the knowledge that Pierre is special, that it started out a dumb crush that Alex and Max rinsed him for, teasing him relentlessly. It’s how during their first meeting, Pierre called his sketches incredible and Charles had started to fall because of a kind compliment. It was Pierre paying for his ridiculous coffee order without batting an eyelash, it was the promise of _next time._

****

It’s Pierre talking to him like they have all the time in the world to sit back and learn about each other, to know fears and dreams, it’s all the clichés thrown together in a bowl and creating something that Charles can’t put a word to. 

****

Pierre’s laughter brings him out of his thoughts, a napkin between his fingers as he mentions _sauce_ and leans forward to wipe it away from Charles’ cheek, carefully and gently but before Pierre can pull his hand away, Charles catches it between his fingers and presses a kiss to the base of Pierre’s palm. 

****

_“Thank you.”_ Charles murmurs, and he knows it’s for a lot more than this.

****

Pierre catches Charles’ eyes and leans in slowly, connecting their lips in a kiss that could dizzy them both to within an inch of their lives. 

****

“I’m still going to beat you.” Pierre whispers, the words vibrating against Charles’ mouth,

****

Charles leans in again, he can feel the salt against their lips, “no, you’re not.” 

****

*** 

****

They’re waiting at the fourth hole, the group in front still taking part in their go, Charles twirling the golf club in front of him as Pierre slides an arm around his waist and pulls Charles back until he can hug him from behind. Charles covers Pierre’s hand with his own and tilts his head back to smile at his date, 

****

It’s not often that Charles finds himself not knowing what to say, in fact, most of the time he has to be shut up by whoever he’s with but he’s sure that if the rest of their date was just in the comfortable silence that they’ve accidentally created, he’s going to be more than happy. 

****

(That might be a lie, Charles is _far_ too obsessed with the sound of Pierre’s voice).

****

In fact, Charles is distracted even during his go and he spectacularly manages to mess up the hole much to his own amusement, breaking out into a fit of giggling as the ball rolls back and lands at the toe of his shoe. 

****

Pierre wraps his other arm around Charles’ shoulders and holds him closer, picking up on the _we don’t need to talk_ feeling that’s encompassing the pair of them.

****

It’s at the fifth hole when Charles gets a hole in one and he spins around, he’s _kind of_ smug about it and goes to rub it in but Pierre interrupts him, he catches the corner of Charles’ mouth in a kiss that sends all celebratory smugness barrelling out of Charles’ head and he’s instead left looking like a dumbstruck idiot. 

****

_Worth it._

****

Pierre gets his own back and watches as the ball spins through the loop and rolls straight into the hole at the sixth before they’re once again level at the seventh before stopping and taking a break.

****

They clink together their bottles of beer as they stand at the edge of the eighth, 

****

“What made you want to become an architect?” Pierre asks, nails digging into the top of the label on the bottle, 

****

Charles twists his lips into a frown as he thinks, “it wasn’t a set in stone idea, I just liked drawing a lot when I was a kid - I was _so_ bad - but I liked drawing houses and colouring in them and showing my parents. I guess I was, I don’t know, fourteen when a group of people came to my school and one of them was an architect…” Charles trails off, smiling thoughtfully, “I didn’t know it at the time but the person was Lewis - one of my bosses, I met him when I was fourteen and had no idea who he was.” Charles laughs, thinking about how life does in fact have funny ways of working things out, “and he made architecture sound so fun, he told me it was complicated and it wasn’t easy but I think it was that, I liked the idea of doing something that would challenge me. He was only just starting out but he lived in Monaco and listen, he’s the coolest person and I wanted to be like him.” 

****

Pierre hangs on to every single word that Charles says. 

****

“I started to take it more seriously after that and it worked, I got into UCL, met Max and just worked really hard.” Charles shrugs at the end, it’s been a long time since he thought about how far he’s come from when he was a teenager and unsure of what he wanted to do for certain.

****

He drinks the beer slowly, it’s cool against the back of his throat as he presses his fingers against the glass. 

****

“I think you’re amazing.” 

****

Charles replies by curling his fingers around Pierre’s and squeezing their hands together, dangling between them as they drink silently, feeling in a timeless zone of never wanting the evening to end. 

****

“Tell me more about your app.” 

****

Charles _lives_ for the way that Pierre’s eyes light up as he throws himself into a monologue of talking about all the technical side of the app development. Charles wonders if he’s ever going to get tired of hearing Pierre talk about it, to hear the pride in his voice, to hear him confuse himself over what Charles already knows about it to every other side of it. 

****

Maybe, he doesn’t want to stop hearing about it either. 

****

***

****

“Wait, what’s the score?” Charles asks when they come up to the ninth and final hole, squinting underneath the bright lights that are shining through the ferris wheel. “I’m still winning, right?” 

****

He throws his golf ball up and down whilst Pierre works out the scores and shakes his head, 

****

“We’re level.” 

****

Charles narrows his eyes before a cheeky grin begins to tug at the corners of his mouth, spinning the golf club in his hand against the green on the ground, before he drops the ball and holds out his other hand to Pierre, 

****

“What does the winner get?” Charles asks him, 

****

Pierre joins their hands together and they shake on it, an equally cheeky smile appearing at the corners of his lips. “I’ll decide when I win,” 

****

The last time that Charles played mini golf with Max - Max had already lost the game three holes back and the memory sticks in his mind, he doesn’t know why as he sets the ball and looks through the ferris wheel that’s spinning around. 

****

He still wants to win, _oh my god,_ the competitive streak runs through his veins but so does the image of Pierre winning the entire game is causing his heart to hammer against his chest. 

****

Max would love this, he’d been teasing him to hell and back because _of course your competitive streak is broken by a cute guy._ He would be right but Charles would never admit it, _ever,_ even on his deathbed such as giving Max the satisfaction over anything is the one thing that Charles never wants to happen. 

****

Charles steadies himself and looks back over his shoulder, Pierre watching him with his full, undivided attention as he swings and hits the ball… and watches as it ricochets off the ferris wheel and bounces back to him. 

****

“Was that another practice?” Pierre’s voice grabs Charles’ attention, 

****

“Obviously.” Charles replies, “I was just giving you a chance.” 

****

Pierre winks in his direction as they swap places, except, when Pierre hits the ball it’s at the right time and flies straight through a gap in the wheel and slows down until it’s practically in a line in front of the hole when it stops. 

****

“A chance, did you say, amour?” Pierre asks him once he turns back around, 

****

Charles blinks, brain blank as soon as _amour_ had fallen from Pierre’s lips as though he’s been calling Charles it his entire life. 

****

“It’s not over yet, babe.” Charles points out, sliding his fingers along the sleeve of Pierre’s jacket as he steadies himself and takes his second shot, the ball flying smoothly through a gap in the ferris wheel and landing almost right beside Pierre’s, “see?” 

****

Charles waits as Pierre hits the ball and it _skips_ over the edge of the hole and bounces onto the other side - 

****

_“Pierre!”_ Charles exclaims, unable to keep the volume of his voice down as he starts to laugh almost squeakily, pulling the collar of his jacket up to hide his smile behind.

****

Charles takes his shot and rolls the ball in, immediately bounding over to Pierre and pulling on his arm as Pierre gazes down at him like Charles is single-handedly the best thing that’s ever happened to him. 

****

***

****

“I’ve decided what I want for winning.” Charles says, curling himself into Pierre once they’ve left and are outside in the freezing cold, pitch black night. 

****

The pavement is wet from rain and the street lamps up ahead glisten in a soft orange against the water as they walk down the road, past the buildings in central London as Charles looks up at them, smiling when he thinks about one of his being here one day. 

****

“What do you want?” Pierre asks, lifting his hand until his fingers are resting at the base of Charles’ hairline, they’re cold and Charles shivers but Pierre doesn’t move them away. 

****

“A chance to redeem yourself.” Charles says, and he seems pretty proud of it as he glances up at Pierre through his eyelashes, pressing himself even closer when a gust of wind hits them.

****

“Is that your way of asking me out on a second date?” Pierre questions but from the knowing twinge in his voice, Pierre _already_ knows. 

****

“It is.” Charles confirms, waiting, 

****

Pierre laughs if not slightly breathlessly, “yeah, of course, amour. A second date it is.” 

****

Charles leans up and lets his lips brush against Pierre’s cheek, lingering for a few seconds as they stop at the crossing. The walk to the tube station feels too short and Charles still has _no_ idea what time it is or has he checked his phone - he’s sure that the group chat is going to have a hundred plus messages of theories on how the date is going or Alex and Max arguing over something despite the fact they’re probably sitting beside the other.

****

“Can I ask you something?” Charles asks once they’re waiting on the platform, turning around and facing Pierre, 

****

“What’s up?” Pierre asks and his voice sounds so soft, watching Charles as though they’re the only two people in the entire world. 

****

“On Monday, can you be there during the presentation - if you find Max or Alex, they’ll do a good job of hiding you because I _know_ they’ll want to watch…” Charles trails off, sticking his hands into his jacket pockets as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. 

****

“Anything you want, Charles.” Pierre promises,

****

Charles leans into him and feels Pierre sliding his arms around him, pulling him close and the featherlight, delicate kiss that Pierre leaves against his hair, has Charles wanting to faint on the spot. 

****

Sitting down on the train and leaning back against the window, Charles has the group chat open and he’s silently reading through the messages as Pierre holds his hand, brushing his fingers across Charles’ hand, his phone in his other as he does the same thing.

****

**[Max]** _he might have been kidnapped_

 **[Alex]** _i wish someone would kidnap you_

 **[Max]** _stop bullying me_

 **[Charles]** _keep bullying him alex_

 **[Charles]** _also i haven't been kidnapped wtf_

 **[Max]** _HE LIVES_

 **[Max]** _how's the date_

 **[Charles]** _tell u when i'm home xx_

It’s the quiet, Charles has comfortable silences - in fact, he has a record with Max for the both of them once being in the same room for two hours and not uttering one single word to the other, he _likes_ them. He’s grateful that he’s found that with Pierre too. 

He’s grateful for him. 

Not just for saving him from quitting his job numerous times for saving a computer he has accepted he knows absolutely nothing about. 

Charles’ apartment is close to the station and their joined hands swing in the middle of them as they walk around the corner and up the street to Charles’ building, stopping outside the door, Pierre leaning against the wall.

“Thank you, for tonight, for walking me home, for _letting me win.”_ Charles says, waiting for Pierre to deny it but he doesn’t “I thought you said you were competitive?” Charles asks him, fighting back a lovesick grin. 

“I _am_ but I won’t be next time, I will crush you.” Pierre promises despite the lack of malice in his voice, 

Charles leans closer, cold hands pressed to cold cheeks and kisses him, wonders if he’ll ever get tired of the feeling and thinks about a second date, then a third, maybe a fourth and feels the blood rushing to his ears. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, amour.” 

Charles doesn’t want him to go, 

Until he remembers the small fact that his friends are in his apartment and reluctantly pulls his hands away from Pierre, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he murmurs _be safe_ into the cold night, Pierre promising to text him once he’s home. 

Charles waits until Pierre is out of sight before entering his building, cheeks red and immediately turns redder at the heat coming from inside as he takes the stairs back up to his apartment. 

He puts his key into the lock and opens the door, hearing the sound of the TV as he walks in and closes it behind him - he’s in the middle of shrugging his jacket off when he walks into the living room just as Max turns around. 

“It’s late.” 

“Shut up - wait, what time is it?” Charles asks as he drops his jacket onto the back of the couch and jumps over his best friend to sit on the couch beside him. 

“Just after eleven.” Max says, lowering the volume, “Alex is asleep, he couldn’t stay awake so he’s in your bed but I’m _not_ waiting, how was the date?” He asks, giving Charles his attention. 

Charles kicks his legs up into Max’s lap and leans into the opposite end of the couch as he still feels the imprint of the kiss against his lips, they’re tingling but Charles is certain that’s from the temperature outside. 

“Oh my god, okay, we went to mini golf in this 20s themed place - and Max, _fuck,_ it was so cool-” Charles gets distracted and stops himself before meeting his best friend’s eyes again. “It was called swingers like _swingers_ and in this old underground studio thing and I’m _really_ glad I made Pierre tell me what we were doing first because I would _not_ have walked into that place otherwise.” 

“How much have you had to drink?” Max asks, half amused, he has the same look in his eyes as he does when he drinks, gets distracted easily, doesn’t know where to focus. 

“Uh - two?” Charles answers, knitting his eyebrows together. 

“Oh, so you’re _plastered.”_ Max snorts and earns himself a slap to the shoulder from Charles for his efforts. “Okay, so mini golf?” 

Charles talks about _everything,_ even from down to the Gatsby reference that Pierre used (Max rolls his eyes, subjected to watching that every week when they were in university together, so much so, that like Charles - he can quote the entire thing against his own will). 

“There was a hole with a ferris wheel and it reminded me of your birthday when you broke the windmill and made the manager angry.” Charles laughs, head lolling to the side as he watches the realisation dawning on his best friend’s face,

Max laughs, “I remember he got mad because I told him if it was made of better material, it wouldn’t have snapped.” 

“Do you remember his face when you offered to build him a new one because you were an architect student and knew better? I swear it was _terrible_ timing but you were so serious he was just staring at you like he didn’t know what to do.” Charles smiles as he thinks about the memory, “I don’t know if we were too drunk or I’m imagining it but didn’t you tell him you were Dutch and knew what you were doing?” 

Max furrows his eyebrows, “honestly, that birthday is kind of a blur but it wouldn’t surprise me.” 

It feels like the nights of old, when they were back in university together, Charles always used to just tell Max whatever was on his mind and it would usually be late at night and he would talk for hours about anything and everything and Max would listen and offer up sarcastic commentary on the side. 

“Go on, I’ve been waiting all night for this.” Max says and gestures for Charles to keep talking, 

“You just want to know everything now so you can rub it in Alex’s face.” Charles points out, rolling his eyes when Max nods, 

He remembers, reminds himself to ask Max about Alex after he’s finished gushing about his date - he’s dying to know but not enough to not talk about Pierre for three hours. 

“I won mini golf, _obviously,_ I haven’t lost a game since I was seven and Lorenzo beat me but he _let_ me win and I don’t know but it was the cutest fucking thing ever?” Charles fawns, gesticulating wildly as he throws his arms out in every direction. “I also got a second date because I won the game and _that_ is what I wanted - oh and I want him at the presentation on Monday so you guys will have to sneak him in. Max, _dude,_ don’t give me that look I know you’re going to stand at the back but if you put me off I’ll cut you.” 

Max holds his hands up in surrender wearing a smile that says _try me_ with no effort behind it. Max will put him off at any given circumstance but _not_ during the time that’s most important. 

“Also, do you remember my first kiss? Wait, no, I never told you but my first kiss was when I was thirteen but I think I just had my first kiss again, it was better, is that stupid? I don’t care.” Charles rambles, his words slurring _ever_ so slightly as he loses his train of thought once again. “I know you’re laughing at me for being a lightweight, shut up.” 

Max just keeps laughing, his hoodie pulled up to cover the bottom half of his face as he feigns not having a clue what Charles is on about. 

Charles falls quiet after that, still thinking about his date before flicking his gaze across to Max, 

“Alright, alright, I waited long enough-” Charles starts, Max hums and looks up from his phone “- what’s going on with you and Alex? I saw that look you gave him before I left.” 

Max sighs but doesn’t respond anymore to that, 

“Max, come on, what’s going on? Are you really _mad_ about that because Alex and I do that _all_ the time-”

“- That’s the point.” Max interrupts and he sounds frustrated, dragging his lip between his teeth as he curls his arms around his knees and rests his head atop of them staring at Charles as the confusion gets deeper on his best friend’s face. “Charles, you’re stupid but you’re not an idiot, I don’t care that you two make flirtatious jokes all the time, it’s never bothered me because you’ve been obsessed with Pierre for months.” 

Charles doesn’t argue, Max has a point. 

“You… like him?!” Charles exclaims, jumping up and nearly kicking Max in the stomach in the process as his best friend hisses at him to shut up, “Max, why didn’t you tell me? Or him? How long? Since when? _Max.”_ Charles slaps Max’s arm repeatedly until the annoyance grows and Max shuts him up by covering his mouth. 

“It was late last year, Alex and I were working late and I don’t know it just _hit_ me or whatever, like, I don’t know, I haven’t had feelings for anybody for so long I just kind of shrugged it off.” Max explains whilst scowling, “I keep thinking they’re going to just disappear but I don’t know, you two kind of made me-”

“- Jealous.” Charles cuts him off knowing that’s what Max was going for but never going to admit “and I know you know that we’re just joking around but why don't _you_ flirt with him?” 

Max shakes his head, “I don’t think it’s going to work, it’s fine.” 

Charles sighs and scoots along the couch until he’s beside his best friend and throws his arms around Max dramatically, 

“You’re my best friend which means I’m allowed to say this without you getting offended but you might be the biggest, no, you _are_ the biggest idiot I’ve ever met and if you don’t believe me, ask Alex.” 

Max holds onto Charles’ arms as he eyes his best friend sceptically but Charles just winks in his direction not saying another word when the bedroom door opens down the hallway and a few seconds later, Alex, bleary-eyed appears. 

_“Max.”_ Alex grumbles, “I thought you were supposed to wake me up when he got back?” 

Max opens his mouth presumably to say something sarcastic back but closes it just as quickly and mumbles out an apology, his cheeks turning red. 

“Alexander! Do you want to hear about my date?” Charles asks, saving Max’s embarrassment for now.

(He said nothing about tomorrow though). 

Alex walks into the living room and sits on the floor in front of the couch, head back against Max’s legs as Charles retells the story for a second time, sharing glances with both of his friends and wondering if _he’s_ picked up on it - just how oblivious are the pair of them?

Charles is still up almost an hour later, sitting on the couch as a film that he doesn’t remember the title of plays on the TV in front of him - both Alex and Max asleep on the couch beside him when his phone lights up from beside him. 

**[Pierre]** _I'm home! thank you for tonight and I can't wait for our second date and to see you tomorrow. Sweet dreams, amour x_

Charles reads the message (and proceeds to read it three more times) unable to wipe the smile from his mouth, Pierre might be the best thing that’s happened to him for a long time. 

(The rational side of his brain is going to argue that Monday might be the best thing that’s going to happen to him but that’s getting ahead of himself). 

He tilts his head to the side watching his friends sleep, Max’s arm draped over Alex’s shoulders and rolls his eyes before glancing back down at his phone and feels an odd sense of calm for the first time in a month. 

Pierre’s ability to calm the stressed storm in his head, 

Jesus, he doesn’t _remember_ what falling in love feels like but this could be close. 


	3. doesn’t matter if i’m not enough for the future or things to come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear this was supposed to be the last chapter but i accidentally wrote too much and had to split it rjeksjsks
> 
> it's been a WHILE omfg that was not my intention but life hits u hard, i'm so sorry (also ngl i kinda hate 45% of this chapter even after rewriting it yikes) xx

“Stop being so lovesick, you’re putting me off my breakfast.” Max grumbles, rolling his shoulders as he sits hunched over the counter, eyes down on his phone and paying Charles no attention “hey, about what you made me tell you last night-”

“- I know.” Charles interrupts and dismisses with a wave, “my lips are sealed.” 

“I seriously doubt that but… _thanks.”_ and it feels like it’s the most genuine word that Max has ever uttered to him throughout their years of knowing each other,

It’s also too early in the morning for that particular piece of knowledge to not strike Charles until two hours later when he’s sitting at his desk and watching Alex and Max talking in a hushed whisper opposite him out of the corner of his eye.

It feels obvious now that Charles knows, he concentrates on the same interactions that he’s seen between the pair of them for months and turns a blind eye too but now sees the way that Alex hesitates and looks up to Max to make sure that he’s still listening. It’s the way that Max is resting his elbow on Alex’s shoulder, a part of him always seemingly holding onto Alex in any sort of way. 

It’s not that Charles wants to make it easier for them, in fact, a good part of him is curious to find out how long it’s going to take for them to figure it out on their own (knowing the both of them though, he could be waiting _years_ and he wants to be best man before his hair turns grey). 

Charles pushes his chair back from his desk, grabs a document with the intention to photocopy it because if he stays here for two minutes more he might just knock his friends’ heads together in an _admit your feelings or I’m doing it again_ motion. 

(Not that either of them notice his sudden departure). 

He pushes open the door to the stairwell and slowly starts skipping down the stairs, the document swinging back and forth as he makes his way down to the photocopy room. He’s having to grab onto the banister to keep his balance and stop himself from tripping and falling flat on his face. 

“Company!” A female voice yells when Charles pushes open the door to the room and walks in. “Morning, gorgeous.” 

Charles rolls his eyes but he’s smiling nevertheless, raising his eyebrows as he drops the document onto the empty table and jumps up to sit on it. “Charlotte! _Where_ have you been hiding, I haven’t seen you in days, or weeks. This presentation has destroyed my sense of time.” 

Charlotte smiles sympathetically with a hint of pride curving at the corners, “Oh, honey, I don’t think I’ve had a chance to sleep in the last two weeks, we have a massive, no, what’s a word for bigger than massive - order that needs to be shipped on Friday evening and it’s been so draining I don’t even think I could spell my name without making mistakes at this point.” She sighs, stifles a yawn and leans against the photocopier for support.

“That explains why you’re hiding down here?” Charles assumes, 

She rolls her eyes, “nothing gets past you, does it? I just need a break from my boss - _who else?_ I walked in and she was stomping around the office so I thought _nah_ and turned around and I’ve been here for-” she stops and looks down at her watch “- thirty two minutes and counting.” 

“Charlotte!” Charles squawks, “how do you keep getting away with it?” 

Charlotte sighs, throws her hair over her left shoulder and stares directly into Charles’ eyes in a way that should be off-putting but just has Charles waiting in anticipation instead, “oh sweetie, she knows I’m the best assistant she’s going to get. Anyway, enough about me, am I the _only_ one who didn’t know you got a boyfriend?” 

“Not my boyfriend.” Charles corrects, “let me guess, Max?” 

Charlotte doesn’t even attempt to deny it, “darling, you can say he’s not your boyfriend all you want but from what I heard, it’s just a matter of time.” 

“Who are your sources?” 

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” Charlotte replies cryptically, smiling brightly when Charles meets her eyes. “So, tell me, why am I only finding out now?” 

“It wasn’t intentional.” Charles says to her, a thoughtful expression shadowing the corners of his face as he crosses his legs “I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t a one date kind of thing, you know I care about your opinion a lot.” 

Charlotte presses her palm over her heart, “what I’m hearing is I’m more important than Max, Alex, Seb, Lewis, your mother, Lorenzo, Arthur-” she stops and tries to gauge Charles’ reaction but it’s just the amused smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I’m kidding, babes, I’ll meet him soon though.” 

“Of course and if he’s not up to your standards I’ll forget about him.” Charles decides,

_“Really?”_ Charlotte asks him unable to hide the surprise in her voice, 

“No!” Charles exclaims, “I can’t believe you bought that.” 

“You’re… adorable even if you are a little bit of a prick.” Charlotte sighs, squinting underneath the light as she meets Charles’ eyes, poking her finger against his cheek, “in another universe, we dated.” 

“Real life couldn’t handle it though.” Charles tells her, “and you’re not my type, sorry babe.” 

Charlotte just laughs and slides her arm around Charles’ shoulder, “I think we’re better off like this. So, tell me about him, Max’s story-telling doesn’t even come close to the theatrics that you have.” 

Charles pushes himself back until he’s leaning against the wall and for the second time in barely twelve hours, he retells the story of his date and everything that preceded it (even if Charlotte interrupts him every five seconds). 

“You once posted a call-out story on Instagram when I beat you at bowling and you actually considered throwing a game because a cute guy asked you out? Unbelievable.” Charlotte tuts, pulling at a loose thread in the hem of her jumper,

“Didn’t you once tell Max that the reason I was late to his birthday meal was because I was out buying him a present because I forgot?” Charles asks her knowing full well that that’s exactly what she did. 

“Fair enough. Okay, I’ve been hiding long enough and I know I need to get back upstairs, tell me to go back upstairs.” 

“Go before you get fired.” Charles pushes, squeezing her hand gently before letting her go and he makes a few copies of the document, mostly for safe keeping, his organisation at home is practically non-existent. 

He hits the button for the lift and leans against the marble wall, flicking the corners of the sheets of paper, still warm from the copier as he looks around the entrance of the office, jumping when he hears an all too familiar voice call his name quietly from behind. 

“Pierre?” His name falls delicately from his lips as Charles turns around and meets his eyes, “What are you doing here?” 

“Working, Charles.” Pierre laughs, “or did you forget we work in the same building?” 

“No - I knew that - I meant - here.” Charles scrambles and gestures to the space between them “standing here.” 

“I knew what you meant, I have a job up on fifth, actually it was Dany’s job but he’s been stuck on a call for nearly two hours so I have to do it.” Pierre shrugs as the lift doors open up in front of them and they wait for it to empty out. 

“Lucky me.” Charles comments, lips curling into a smile as he meets Pierre’s eyes, leaning against the mirror as Pierre hits the buttons. 

“I think _I’m_ the lucky one, Charles.” Pierre says with such fondness in his voice that Charles almost jolts forward like the lift has broken down.

It feels like so much has happened since the night before and truthfully, a lot has, too much information clouding his head, ever-building stress that is sending Charles towards tearing his hair out before Monday morning and _Pierre._ Just, his entire existence is enough for that to be all that Charles actually wants to focus on. 

“I’m so glad last night happened.” 

Charles almost doesn’t hear it, staring into the mirror behind Pierre and getting lost in his own string of thoughts but when he does, the corners of his mouth turn upwards and he leans back against the mirror behind him proving that Charles didn’t conjure up the entire thing in an elaborate dream. 

“I’m so glad you threw the game for me.” Charles comments cheekily just to see Pierre’s reaction of rolling his eyes but failing to fight back the smile. “I thought it was really gentlemanly of you-” he stops, blinking and trying to figure out if that’s a word he’s learnt or if he’s making it up. 

“- It won’t happen twice, I promise.” 

“Perfect.” Charles sighs and sticks his hand out towards Pierre, 

Pierre takes it and just when Charles goes to shake their hands, Pierre tugs him closer and kisses him gently and quickly just as the lift doors open on the fifth floor and he leaves Charles with a small smile over his shoulder before disappearing down the hallway. 

Some members of the graphic design department step inside and Charles can barely hide how embarrassingly dumb the smile on his face is as he curls himself into the corner and waits until the lift reaches his floor again and he can dive out and walk back into the office. 

Max and Seb are talking in hushed tones as Charles drops himself back into his chair, placing the documents down on the desk and looking up when he hears Alex coughing. 

“It doesn’t take a genius to work out who _you’ve_ just seen.” He laughs, shaking his head fondly before ducking his head. 

Charles doesn’t have it in him to deny it either. 

*** 

Thirty nine hours, that’s all that stands between Charles right now and _actually_ getting it over and done with allowing him to sleep for the following six days (unlikely). He can count down in hours now instead of days, instead of weeks and it ignites a swirling of a hundred different feelings in his stomach as he stares down at his mess of a work desk. It’s not the Saturday night he anticipated a few hours ago, all ready and planning out to go and grab food and drinks with Charlotte, Max and Alex but he just couldn’t run away from the voice in the back of his head telling him to just sit in the empty office and stare aimlessly at his computer screen instead. His phone keeps lighting up from where it’s in front of him on the desk, he persuaded his friends to go out without him but from the number of messages he’s receiving from the three of them - he’s partly regretting telling them to have fun. 

Pushing the hood of his hoodie down, Charles pulls his chair closer to the edge of the desk and starts to type and finish the half sentence that’s been blinking at him for almost fifteen minutes. He manages to type three words before coming stuck and hitting the M key only for it to not work, at all. He tries harder and even holds down the key and counts to ten but the cursor just remains blinking at him. He tries every other key on the keyboard before stopping at M again and trying to press it harder and harder. 

Nothing happens until his computer emits a squealing sound that causes Charles’ to jump in the empty office and the screen turns to black and he hears absolutely nothing coming from it. 

_So, that’s not great._

He’s trying not to descend into a panic as he tries to turn it back on, everything that he should do but it remains dead in front of him and that’s when he yanks his phone up from the desk, unlocks it and scrambles until he opens up the message thread between him and Pierre. 

**[Charles]** _ok so what would you do if i told you my computer has died and this time it really did_

 **[Pierre]** _what do you mean? What did you do?_

Charles thinks about how to word his troubles but slamming the M key until his computer said _I’ve had enough_ doesn’t seem believable in the slightest but the sound of his phone ringing distracts him from trying to piece together coherent words. 

“What happened, Charles?” Pierre asks in lieu of a greeting, 

“I’m not even sure - one of my keys got stuck and it just shut off but it _seriously_ won’t turn on, okay, I banged the key too many times but - I’m not going to look good in this, am I?” Charles asks, pressing his teeth together and watching his reflection in the blank screen of his monitor. “Can you tell me what to do?” 

He listens for the shuffling on the other end of the line and Pierre humming and thinking aloud mumbling in a mixture of English and French before the background noises stop, 

“Turn it off by the switch, the um - plug for me and count to ten-”

“- Is it bad I didn’t think of that?” Charles asks, pushing his chair back and sinking into the carpet underneath his desk as he reaches through the various wires to knock the switch off. 

“You’re calmer than I thought you’d be.” Pierre says, 

Charles is halfway through counting to ten and shrugs to himself, “I’m panicking inwardly, trust me, I’m precisely thirty seconds from crying if this doesn’t work. Okay, ten, turn it back on?” 

Pierre tells him to and Charles does it before climbing out from under the desk and sitting back in the chair, turning his computer on or rather attempting to but it still doesn’t make a sound or even a motion that it might actually turn on and that’s when Charles’ panic starts to show itself through how much his voice is shaking when he asks-

“Pierre? What do _I do?”_

“Stay with me, I’m going to ask Dany what to do because usually that works, with your computer anyway.” There’s more shuffling as Charles closes his eyes and just listens to the sounds in his ear. 

Charles isn’t calm, he really _isn’t_ but he’s trying not to think about the possibility that he’s just sent over half a year of work down the drain. It’s not like he doesn’t have the majority of his work on his laptop sitting on the coffee table back home but it doesn’t have _everything,_ there’s so many more files that he doesn’t want to risk on his laptop given the size of them. 

Charles thinks about texting Max and cutting his best friend’s night short and telling him what he’s done, he knows Max would drop everything and try to fix it, after all, they’re the reason they got through university, them, _together._

Twisting his fingers in the string of his hoodie, he’s doing his best to not think about it, he’s still listening to the noise on Pierre’s end of the phone and it makes for a good distraction, 

He loses count after five, maybe even ten minutes of mindless noise or it could even be longer and he’s starting to realise that his arm is beginning to ache from holding his phone to his ear and he drops it down to his desk instead. 

“Charles?” 

The phone in his hand clatters to the floor as he opens his eyes to Pierre standing at the edge of his desk, hands shoved deep into his coat pocket and cheeks red from the cold outside. 

“What? Why are you here?” Charles asks, pulling his hoodie strings before reaching down to grab his phone from under his foot. 

“You stopped replying when I was talking to you and I got worried about you-” Pierre stops himself, shrugging, “- and Dany didn’t know much more than me so I thought it was easier if I came here and tried to fix it myself.” 

If Charles is being completely honest, he barely knows what Pierre has just said to him but he’s grateful for his presence more than anything. He just nods along and lets his sleeves fall over his hand as he stares helplessly at the computer, 

“I seriously don’t know what happened but it’s - _Pierre -_ it’s eight months of work and if I lose a lot of it, I’m going, I don’t know, I’ll throw myself in the Thames and kiss goodbye to any opportunity like this ever again.” He sighs, wishes he wasn’t being so overdramatic and looks up to Pierre almost pleadingly. 

Pierre is already shrugging his coat off and tossing it over the back of Alex’s chair before asking them to swap as he sits down at Charles’ computer with Charles hovering behind him, shifting his weight from foot to foot continuously. 

Pierre starts fiddling with the wires whilst trying to turn it on again (to no avail but Charles has a lot more faith in him than his limited knowledge of computers beyond design apps) and he instead just sits on the floor and pulls at the longer strands of his hair to distract himself. 

“I think I jinxed myself by coming here.” Charles admits after a few minutes of silence except for the sound of Pierre’s fingers tapping against the keyboard, “it’s done, _completely,_ it doesn’t even need any editing done to it but I just couldn’t stay away from it because it’s so close, you know?” 

Pierre hums in agreement, flicking his gaze to Charles momentarily.

“Okay, I know you’re _probably_ not going to like what I’m going to say but I need to reset the entire system but I _can_ keep your files, don’t panic-” he rushes out when he hears the sharp intake of breath from Charles, “the only downside is, it will take hours so we might have to be stuck here.” 

Charles winces, hearing the word _reset_ has only worsened his already thinning patience and sense of anxiousness but he nods, he trusts Pierre more than he trusts himself and his limited knowledge even though he just wants the ground to open and swallow him whole. 

“Why a reset though?” Charles asks, teeth pressed against the tip of his thumb, 

“It might be a corrupted file, if it was, it would explain the random shutdowns.” Pierre tells him, “I promise I _know_ what I’m doing.” 

The small smile at the corners of his mouth are enough for Charles to trust him with his life and more. 

Pierre manages to get the computer on but before he can perform the reset, Charles just scrambles, hits Pierre’s arm and grabs his hand and just holds it. Pierre smiles and squeezes Charles’ fingers reassuringly between his own before he starts the system reset with Charles deliberately avoiding looking at the screen. 

“Is there anything I can do to distract you?” Pierre asks, spinning around in the chair noticing fully the distressed expression on Charles’ face, 

“Have you eaten yet? I didn’t, I meant to get food but then _that_ happened and, you know.” Charles sighs,

“No, let’s go and get food.” Pierre says to him softly, pulling Charles to his feet and leaving the computer to excruciatingly slowly reset in the background as they grab their coats and head out towards the lift. “Amour, you need to stop worrying, I promise this will work.” 

Charles nods and turns around, screwing his face up against Pierre’s coat. 

“If I could, I’d go back in time and tell fourteen year old me to not get into architecture because all it does is cause immeasurable pain.” Charles mutters, much to Pierre’s amusement. 

“You don’t mean that.” 

“Oh, I _do.”_ Charles insists, backing away and flicking his gaze up to meet Pierre’s eyes. “I don’t mean that and I actually hate that you pointed that out, can’t you let me be dramatic?” 

“You can be as dramatic as you need to be.” Pierre reassures as the lift doors open and they step inside, “but if you didn’t follow through with this and end up where you are now, we wouldn’t have met and wouldn’t that just be _awful.”_

Charles stares at Pierre dumbfounded, all responses disappearing out of his mind as a blankness overtakes his eyes and he tries to scramble for something to bounce back with. Pierre just hits the button for the ground floor, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as Charles still stares at him still unable to come up with a coherent reply. 

Instead, he just laughs softly and slowly feels the bubbling anxiousness start to slip from his shoulders as though it’s been washed away. 

“Where do you want to go and get food?” Pierre asks, 

Charles barely has to think before the word _McDonalds_ falls from his lips, 

“Don’t give me that look - that place was my life when I was in university, I used to make Max take me there at three in the morning during exams or when I wasn’t feeling good and didn’t eat anything all day because he _knew_ I’d never say no to their fries.” Charles explains, 

“Let’s go.” Pierre smiles, pulling open the door, 

Charles slides his fingers through Pierre’s as he walks through and he hisses, scrambling to pull his hoodie up around the bottom half of his face when the first gust of bitter wind hits him square in the face. 

The closest is near the train station and Charles is somewhere between dragging Pierre and running because the sooner he gets out of this cold the better he’s going to feel and Pierre is just going with it, his grip on Charles’ hand never loosening. 

At least it’s not snowing, the first time that Charles saw snow outside of skiing with his family when he was a teenager was during his second year of university having walked into his lecture with Max at nine in the morning to have walked out two hours later to a blanket of snow covering the pavement. 

(Max felt absolutely no regret in grabbing a handful of snow and throwing it down Charles’ back). 

Once they’re inside and Charles feels like he can feel the tips of his fingers again, he turns to Pierre before looking up at the menu whilst also knowing he’s had the same order since he was eight and walking up to the touch screens and finding it impossible given the warmth hasn’t returned to his hands yet. 

He tries shaking his hands but it’s only when Pierre covers them both with his own does that even begin to bring the blood back through to the tips of his fingers. Charles looks over at him, eyes curved at the corners as Pierre rubs their hands together until they both regain feeling. 

When Pierre drops his hands, Charles turns away and starts tapping against the menu and picking his usual order before asking Pierre what he would like and just relaxes back against Pierre when he slides his arm around Charles’ shoulders and takes a few minutes just looking through the menu. 

It’s not that Charles is still thinking about how his computer is getting on back at the office but that’s exactly what he’s thinking about when he pushes his card against the machine, grabs the receipt and almost walks into the pillar dividing the counters. 

“What if it crashed on the restart?!” Charles asks so loudly that he receives (this time) unwanted attention, 

“It hasn’t.” Pierre reassures him, hands on his shoulders and leading him out of the way of anything he’s likely to walk into. “I promise it’s running smoothly, stop thinking about it because the closest hospital to here is twenty minutes away if you walk into a lamppost and give yourself concussion-”

“- How did you know about that? Did Max tell you?” Charles asks, tipping his head back until he can meet Pierre’s eyes. 

“I’m not even surprised.” Pierre laughs softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling and Charles would fawn but he’s not about to fall onto the floor of McDonalds. “Were you sober when you walked into the lamppost?” Pierre asks him, 

“Yes?” Charles answers curiously, “why?”

“Just confirming what I already knew.” Pierre says fondly, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Charles’ forehead just before their order number is called. 

They end up sitting upstairs in the furthest booth away from the staircase and overlooking the street outside and Charles pulls apart the cardboard holding the fries together and watches as they create a giant fry pile in front of him instead. 

“Did you know I actually wanted a McDonalds fry mountain instead of a birthday cake when I was eight?” Charles asks, he knows that Pierre didn’t know that but he smiles as he pulls a few fries off the top and throws them into his mouth. 

“Did you get it?” 

“No, I got a birthday cake instead which was _amazing_ but I still insist that a mountain of fries is unbeatable.” Charles grins and continues to pull at the fries. “Okay, okay, I need more of a distraction, when are you supposed to see your old professor?” 

“Wednesday, I hope he thinks it’s as good as I think it is…” 

It’s the first time that Charles has seen Pierre anything close to nervous, both of his hands wrapped firmly around his drink and he’s averting Charles’ gaze, looking out of the window instead and across to the other side. In some ways, it’s endearing, on the other hand though, Charles frowns at the lack of belief that’s covering every inch of his face. 

Reaching across, Charles pulls one of Pierre’s hands until he can hold it loosely, thumb brushing across his fingers eliciting a small smile from him.

“Do you want to know what I think?” Charles asks and waits until Pierre shrugs and nods, “I think he’d be stupid if he didn’t believe in it, you think it’s good, right? So, act like it, go and see him and make him believe in it as much as you do and he can’t say no. The idea is one thing and it’s important, _yes_ but you’re not going to get anywhere if you don’t believe in it or yourself - that’s just as vital.” Charles manages to say without stopping to take a breath, stopping himself to wonder where that slice of wisdom came from. 

It’s the almost shell shocked expression on Pierre’s face that has Charles rolling his eyes, picking up a fry and throwing it in his direction only for Pierre to catch it in his mouth and eat it with a shrug. 

Pierre squeezes Charles’ fingers between his own gratefully and Charles smiles to himself, if he’s managed to do one productive thing tonight then he’s going to be _proud_ of himself for that being it. 

“Do you think you’d leave this job to become a full-time app developer?” Charles asks through a mouthful of his burger, holding one finger up and continuing to chew until he can swallow it before gesturing for Pierre to proceed. 

“I have to create a successful app before I can think about a career in it but _this,_ well, not this exactly but this is what my degree is in and I like this job.” Pierre sighs thoughtfully, zoning out for a few seconds as he tries to gather his thoughts. “I think if the opportunity came up, I would seriously consider it, what do you think?” 

“What I think-” Charles starts, sips his drink slowly and raises his eyebrows “- is, when you’re rich from all your apps, I hope you don’t forget the people that were here when you were just starting out.” 

They both try and maintain a straight face but Charles cracks first and shakes his head at how dumb he sounded, Pierre following before he utters the words,

“What makes you think you won’t be by my side when I’m _rich?”_

Truthfully, Charles can’t come up with a response for that. 

*** 

The couple of hours that go by flow like just minutes have passed, their wrappers scrunched up and placed aside and their drinks finished a long time ago and for the first time since they arrived, Charles doesn’t even have the thought of his resetting computer lingering at the back of his mind. 

He’s completely forgot that just a few hours ago he was ready to ruin Max’s night by making him sit in the office with him whilst Charles reached new levels of _how much I’ve ruined my life,_ even if deep down he knows that Max wouldn’t have minded. 

“You really dropped everything to come and help me tonight.” 

“It’s Saturday night, Charles, I wasn’t doing a _lot_ to begin with.” Pierre downplays it but it’s clear from the slight redness covering his cheekbones that Charles might be closer to the truth than Pierre’s willing to admit. 

“So, it’s not just that I’m so bad at using computers, you thought I’d do more damage by myself?” Charles asks him, tongue between his teeth. 

He half-expects Pierre to tell him that he’s right.

He definitely expects Pierre to make fun of him for having a job where computer knowledge should be integral. 

He doesn’t expect Pierre to lean across the table and kiss him gently like they’re the only two people to exist.

***

It’s only when they’re about to walk back into the office does Charles revert back to feeling like his career is hanging on by a thread,

“Twenty two percent?!” Charles almost yells across the entire room when he catches a glimpse of his computer screen “we’ve been out for-” he glances down at his watch “- two hours? Three hours?” 

Pierre just gives Charles an amused smile as he shrugs his coat off, “I told you it would take a while.” 

_“Pierre,”_ Charles draws his voice out slowly, “there is a difference between it taking _a while_ and it still doing _this_ on Monday morning.”

“I think it’ll be finished and good to go by Monday.” Pierre replies, an assuming tone of voice that does nothing to ease Charles. “What’s your backup if I’m wrong though?” 

“Run back to Monaco?” Charles thinks aloud, “that would be number one on the list but I guess I’d just do a terrible job of it with what stuff I still have access to and beg them to let me have it telling them that my lack of computer knowledge and _actual_ knowledge of my job are different. Do you know I’m _really_ persuasive?” 

“I don’t doubt you.” 

Charles raises his eyebrows as he pulls a chair up to the end of his desk and sits down, head resting against the palms of his hands. For a few minutes, he just stares at the screen and watches as it loads by a further two percent and that’s all and he knows that he’s in for the longest night so _far._ He thinks about anything and everything in those few that pass, 

“On a scale of one to ten, how _annoying_ am I on the list of people you have to deal with?” 

“You think you annoy me?” Pierre asks him, leaning back in the chair and hearing the mechanics underneath start to squeak, he tilts his head to the side and flicks his gaze across Charles’ face, “what makes you think you annoy me even a little? Also, you can’t annoy me as much as the woman, uh, I don’t know her name but she’s the head of the graphic design department, she yells a lot.” 

Charles furrows his eyebrows, _graphic design, yelling a lot, Charlotte._

“That’s Charlotte’s boss!” 

“Who?” Pierre asks, confusion sweeping across his face, 

“She’s one of my closest friends, she’s the _woman who yells a lot,_ she’s her assistant and she hates her as much as you do.” Charles smiles, “I’ve never met her but she sounds like a nightmare, I’m glad I work for Seb and Lewis because even _Max_ wouldn’t have stopped me from getting on the first flight away from here if we got stuck with her.” 

“I never said I hate her, love.” Pierre reminds him, 

Charles raises his eyebrows, “sure you don’t, babe.” 

Pierre just laughs to himself as though it’s a big secret that he hates her even though Charles knows, god knows, Charlotte might have a touch of the dramatics about her but even he knows that she’s not exaggerating when it comes to her. 

“What’s it like working for Seb and Lewis?” 

Charles almost doesn’t catch the question but when he does, he simply shrugs. 

“They’re tough when they need to be but they kind of have like, fatherly vibes about them? Seb thinks of us as the kids we’ve put him off having - he jokes a lot about how he shouldn’t have employed Max _and_ me because we’re just _really_ terrible influences on each other but it’s kind of like-” Charles stops as he tries to formulate what he wants to say, 

He’s starting to reflect on his time here, it hasn’t been the longest but so much has happened, sometimes he thinks he’s aged ten years and other times he thinks he took advantage over how easy university seemed. 

He’s on the cusp of something he didn’t expect for five, _ten_ years. 

“- They know what to expect but it’s not like they’re bearing down on you every second, there’s a lot of trust there and don’t get me started on belief, it’s really important to have them on your side believing in you.” Charles sighs, dropping his head to rest on his folded arms laying across the desk. “I lucked out I think, they don’t expect you to do everything by yourself, I could walk into Seb’s office on Monday morning and tell him I’m not doing it and he’d need ten minutes to talk me around whilst continuing to do his own work, okay, that makes it sound like he doesn’t care-”

“- No, I got you.” Pierre interrupts him, “it’s more a case of him not skipping a beat, just knowing what to do and say, kind of?” 

Charles nods, a smile curving at the corners of his mouth, “that’s it. He’s good at talking me out of crises.” 

“Have there been a lot?” Pierre inquires, resting his hand against Charles’ forearm, fingers brushing against his hair, 

“Oh, you have no idea.” 

*** 

It takes until it hits midnight for the loading bar to finally hit the magic, _fifty._

“At least we know it’s going to be done by the time the sun rises?” 

Charles tilts his head to the side at Pierre’s words, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t know if that was you attempting to make me feel better or not.” 

“Did it work?” Pierre shoots back, “if it did, _yes_ and if it didn’t, _what_ attempt?”

“I can think of worse ways to spend Saturday nights.” Charles decides, in the back of his mind he’s trying to think of an example, he has seven years of memories with Max, there’s plenty of choice. “We, Max and I, once got locked in the computer room on campus because we were working late on an assignment and after nine, the doors to the rooms automatically locked? It was our first year so we didn’t _know_ that at the time and we didn’t finish until nearly eleven and we realised we were locked in and had to open the window and climb out in the dark. The room was on the ground floor so it’s not like it was _that_ dangerous but I climbed out first and tries to grab Max’s arm to help him but he got his foot caught on the ledge and ended up falling into the flower bed so we just ran back to our flat, a security guard saw us, well Max covered in soil and we had to prove we were students. I think he found it pretty funny once he realised we _were_ students.” 

“That sounds… actually more believable than I thought it would…” Pierre trails off, slowly whilst still letting the story sink in. “I’m just glad that these doors don’t automatically lock because I don’t fancy our chances of making it down in one piece from this high up.” 

“Scared?” 

“Of falling to my death? Yes.” Pierre deadpans, tilting his head to the side and watching until Charles cracks and smiles.

“What else are you scared of?” Charles asks, leaning forward and resting his chin on the palms of his hands, raising his eyebrows curiously, 

“Nothing.” 

“Everybody is scared of something.” Charles pushes, 

“I guess I’m…” Pierre starts but trails off just as quickly, unable to tear his gaze away from Charles before finally snapping himself out of it but not making any effort forward to continue.

Charles waits but that’s all he says, part of him still curious and sure that he was about to say something else before he stopped himself.

“You’re what? What are you scared of, Pierre?” Charles asks, spinning the chair until they’re face to face, reaching out and laying his hand atop of Pierre’s, watching the way that his eyes flick down to their hands before lifting back to share Charles’ gaze. 

Pierre leans back, tilting his head to the side with a small smile forming at the corners of his mouth, 

“I’m scared of what you’re going to do to this computer if the restart fails.” He says, slightly amused. 

***

It’s around half one when Charles starts feeling the exhaustion beginning to set in, stifling his third yawn in as many minutes hasn’t gone completely unnoticed by Pierre who nudges him gently but Charles still jolts upright as though he’s been shocked. 

“Charles, you _can_ go home if you’re tired, I can wait until it’s done.” 

Charles barely lifts his head up from where he’s staring at the desk until his eyes become fuzzy from exhaustion but he shakes his head, there’s no way he’s leaving until it’s done and he can see it through his own two eyes even if that means forcing them open. 

“Or don’t you trust me that it’s going to work out?” 

“I do trust you.” Charles replies immediately, shooting down those words “but I don’t trust _that.”_ He growls lowly, sticking his arm out and pointing at the monitor. “It’s the bane of my existence and I hope it knows it.” 

Pierre sits back, spinning side to side in the chair as the bar moves along at something that’s even slower than a snail’s pace. 

“You do know it’s an inanimate object, right?” Pierre asks him, genuine concern weaved into his voice as he reaches out towards Charles,

Even in his exhausted state, Charles still manages to roll his eyes at Pierre and sarcastically call him _hilarious._

Pierre is on his phone when he feels a dead weight hitting his shoulder and glances down to find Charles sleeping against him and he wonders when he actually fell asleep in the first place. He doesn't move and it becomes increasingly more difficult to use his phone and he's accepted that he's just sticking to Instagram and wondering if he finally has the time to catch up on every single post he's missed.

The blinding blue light from the monitor is the cause of Pierre’s headache a few minutes later and he slides his phone onto the desk, closing his eyes to try and ease the pounding. 

He can’t pinpoint the exact moment he fell asleep. 

Though he does jolt awake some time later, confused and disoriented as he rubs his eyes and looks around the office, Charles, equally as out of it smiling sleepily at him, 

“Good morning.” Pierre sighs softly, stifling a yawn and stretching his arms above his head. 

“What time is it? It _is_ morning though, right?” Charles asks him, barely able to make out the time showing on his phone through bleary eyes. “Is it finished yet?” 

“It’s closer.”

That’s enough for Charles to scoot closer to Pierre and nestle himself against Pierre’s side, close his eyes and fall asleep before Pierre even has a chance to realise what’s happening. 

Pierre just sinks deeper into the chair, eyes turning fuzzy at the screen, feeling the lull of sleep start to pull him in again but this time he does stay awake, if not just for Charles to be the one to get some sleep. 

*** 

Charles wakes himself up a good hour later, confused and pulls himself up into a sitting position, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his sleeve before the clicking of the mouse has him staring at the screen and Pierre using the computer, his _working_ computer with the control panel open. 

It still takes him a few seconds for the realisation to dawn on him,

“It’s _working?!”_ He almost shouts at Pierre, the latter barely flinching at the volume of Charles’ voice given the phone calls he’s received for the best part of half a year. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” 

“I had some formatting to do, it’s tedious but… you would have found it boring and I know that.” Pierre stops, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly, looking at Charles’ nod of agreement out of the corner of his eye.

Charles pushes his arm through Pierre’s and settles himself against his side, blinking away the remains of sleep from his eyes and looking at the monitor before flicking his gaze down to Pierre’s hands,

“Thank you.” He whispers, words muffled by Pierre’s sleeve, feeling the imprint of his smile against the fabric. “I’ll remember you when I’m a hotshot.” 

Pierre stifles his laughter. “You sure about that?” 

“Positive.” Charles tells him, “you’re pretty unforgettable.” 

***

It’s after four when they finally leave the office - Charles, now barely functioning and only just remembering to put one foot in front of the other when he walks, pushes open the door to the building, throwing a wave over his shoulder to Mark, the security guard and walks out into the bitterly cold morning. 

“It’s fucking freezing.” 

“Are you always this obvious?” Pierre asks him, pulling his sleeves over his hands and pushing himself underneath the collar of his hoodie and coat to try and hide his face. 

“There’s a _lot_ you have to learn about me.” Charles says to him, visibly shivering as they stand just on the other side of the door. 

“I can’t wait.” 

Neither can Charles.

The goodbyes are unintentionally brief, neither one of them able to hack the cold any longer before splitting off and if Charles stops at the end of the street to look back at Pierre until he’s turned the corner - it’s worth those few extra seconds freezing in the minus temperature.

***

It’s after midday when Charles finally rouses, feeling like he’s slept for all of five minutes and with too much sunlight streaming through his windows as he screws his eyes shut. He tries to force himself to go back to sleep and stop himself from going back to the office now that his computer is up and working. 

He owes Pierre his life, he’s sure of that. 

Less than twenty four hours, that’s not at _all_ terrifying. 

The plan is to spend all day avoiding anything work related and given how _stressed_ he’s been feeling for especially the last couple of weeks, he tells himself he deserves this day of doing nothing. Also considering he doesn’t think he can keep his concentration on anything for more than five minutes, it’s the smartest idea he’s had all week. 

It’s only after showering and ordering food, that he settles himself on the couch, feeling himself on the verge of dropping off again when he notices the book sticking out on the shelf under the coffee table, the frayed edges, the corner peeling back - Charles leans forward and pulls it out. 

He sits back and opens it, flicking through the pages of notes, the folded over page corners and reads back through full pages of third year university stuff, post-it notes with reminders on - a shopping list, reminders to ask Max to drive him places, he keeps turning the pages and raising his eyebrows at some of the stuff inside. It’s been a _long_ time since he’s had a journal like this of any kind, he likes to think he’s gotten better at remembering stuff since university. 

His friends would be the first to dispute that though.

The pages get harder to turn when he gets closer to the end, most of them just post-it notes stacked atop of even more post-it notes and he flicks between them, most of them are just nonsense to him now, he doesn’t even remember what half of them mean until he comes to a few in a row. Each of them have lists of three things on them, three things he wanted to achieve by different points. 

Some of them are as simple as _graduate and move in with Max -_ both of which he got within a few months of each other and others he still _managed_ but he didn’t expect them, _get architecture licence before 30_ \- that particular one still feels surreal. A lot of them revolve around university days, _find work experience, complete masters_. He used to write lists like this almost every week, constantly finding new things that he wanted to set out to achieve. 

Leaning forward, he grabs a pen from the table and pulls a new post-it from the stack stuck to the back cover of the book and starts to write, he dates it first before listing three things. 

He smiles at the list when it’s done, rolling the pen onto the table and he sticks the post-it on the inside of the front cover this time, seperate from all the past ones and he feels good about it, almost pathetically happy. 

***

Charles finds he’s actually quite good at giving himself the day off, to mindlessly scroll through different films on Netflix, to buy needless things for his bedroom off Amazon and avoid thinking about tomorrow morning but as soon as he turns his laptop off and slides it to the end of his couch,

He _does._ It’s not in the way of desperately needing to rehearse speaking so that he can pronounce every word he’s got written but more in the sense that it begins to dawn on him how quickly things are going to change from tomorrow. Regardless of whether he’s successful or not, it’s still going to change _everything,_ he hopes it’s not just going to become a lesson to learn from - even if Seb insists it’s not the end of the world. 

He reaches behind him to grab his phone from the arm of the couch ready to FaceTime Max when the doorbell rings and takes him by surprise that he almost, _almost_ drops his phone square onto his face. 

Pushing the blanket off his legs, he rounds the couch and makes his way to the door hearing a mixture of voices on the other side before he even opens it, but when he does, 

Charlotte is rushing inside and sliding her arms around Charles’ neck to hug him in greeting. Charles wraps his arm around her waist as Alex and Max - talking over each other sweep inside as though they own the place. 

“Figured you didn’t want to spend all night alone.” Alex explains to him before Charles has even had the time to ask. 

“Pierre told us about last night and this seemed a lot kinder than handcuffing you to the oven all night.” Max says shrugging, the idea all his and Charles doesn’t doubt that he actually would’ve attempted the handcuffing trick too. 

It’s only on the mention of Pierre’s name does Charles glance over to the door and see him leaning against the doorframe with a soft smile that is _definitely_ only meant for Charles. 

“You don’t have to thank me.” Charlotte whispers in his ears, “and don’t ask how either, I have my ways babe.” 

She kisses his cheek before pushing through both Max and Alex to get into the living room, both of them hot on her heels leaving Charles leaning against the wall. 

“So-”

Pierre doesn’t have a chance to finish what he’s saying before Charles is stepping up to him, fumbling and finding his hand underneath his sleeve and interrupting him with a kiss, smiling against Pierre’s mouth. 

“Thank you.” 

Charles doesn’t have to elaborate, he knows what he means and Pierre knows too _and_ Max knows, the bastard is leaning against the door behind them, arms folded and grinning. 

“Where’s your phone? I’m ordering pizza.” Max calls out to him, 

“Why can’t you use yours?” 

“Because it’s the pizza you owe us for the other day - never mind, Alex found it. I’ll leave you to it.” 

Hands still joined, Charles walks into the living room pulling Pierre with him, ready to grab his phone back from Max before he places the order. 

“I can order pizza by myself, you know.” Is all Max grumbles once Charles has taken his phone back.

“Why don’t you?” Charles asks him, settling down into the corner of the couch, scrolling through the order, 

“I ordered it last time.” Max points out, 

Alex, sitting on the floor, looks up at him. “No you didn’t, I _did.”_

“You get used to this.” 

Charles hears Charlotte say to Pierre and he can’t even bring himself to deny it, the main cause of any kind of arguments (though, they’re barely arguments to begin with) revolves around food ninety percent of the time. 

It takes around ten minutes for the order to actually get placed but once it is and the back and forth has settled down, they settle into mindless chatter about whatever is on their mind until the question arises.

“How _are_ you feeling about tomorrow?” 

“I can’t wait for it to be over. Kind of.” Charles sighs, he flicks his gaze down to his journal which is lying on the edge of the table, the post-it notes are sticking out of the sides and he thinks about what he wrote there just a few hours ago, knows that in the long run they don’t mean anything other than what he _wants,_ but they hold a significance in the back of his mind, 

If it works out, he’s going to have everything he’s wanted for the best part of a decade with _probably,_ a decade of his life to spare. 

“It’s going to be perfect.” 

“You’re confident.” Max points out, 

Charles smiles to himself, feeling Pierre’s fingers brushing against his own next him, “believing in yourself gets you a lot further than you think.” 

He feels Pierre curl his fingers around his own. 

*** 

It’s a good thing that Charles never cared about his flat being exceptionally tidy when there’s pizza boxes, glasses and bottles strewn around a couple of hours later. 

“On a scale of one to ten, how easy do you think it’s going to be to convince Max to come back to my old uni with me next week?” Alex asks, sliding onto one of the stools on the opposite side of the counter, his phone between his thumb and forefinger, unlocked and open on an email.

“Is there a reason why you’re asking me and not him?” 

Charles narrows his eyes and waits for a glimmer of something in Alex’s eyes that he can trace back to what Max told him the other night. Alex though, isn’t as transparent as his best friend much to Charles’ dismay. 

Alex is staring down at his phone, frowning, 

“If you want my advice-” Charles starts, Alex lifts his head causing Charles to almost stumble over his next words despite just managing to regain composure “- ask him, he’d do anything for you.” 

Charles lifts his glass up from the counter and leaves Alex to mull over that snippet of advice, walking back into the living room and falling back onto the couch, pressed up against Pierre’s side, knowing that both Alex and Max are looking in his direction. 

As it grows closer to midnight, Charles becomes more unsettled, despite it not being able to sink in anymore than it already has and he slips out of his flat, walking down the hallway and through the staircase door, walking up and up until he reaches the roof door. It’s freezing, so cold that it feels like a shock to the system when he walks out, toeing a brick in the way of the door to stop it slamming shut. His flat is in a block that’s completely surrounded by commercial buildings, and a smaller park that’s a eight minute or so walk from here. 

Charles drags his feet closer to the railings, curling his fingers around the grated iron and looks across, into lit up windows of offices and following the map of street lamps down below, breathing in and out slowly and feeling his chest ache at the biting air. He doesn’t know it’s past midnight yet but figures it’s as good as, he’s good at managing to remain confident but the niggling thoughts of defeat stand firm at the back of his mind, 

Is he too young? Too inexperienced? 

“If getting frostbite is your way of getting out of today, you’ll be waiting a long time.” 

Charles doesn’t flinch, if anything, he knew that Max would be the one to follow him out of the flat. He looks back over his shoulder and takes his coat from Max’s outstretched hand, pulling it on and shoving his hands into his pocket immediately. 

“Is it as bad as what happened with Martínez in second year?” Max asks, 

Charles barks out a laugh at the reminder, 

Apparently there’s an unwritten rule that you don’t point out all of the flaws in one of your professor’s buildings. 

“He never explicitly said that it was _his_ work, so, how was _I_ supposed to know that but we should have asked, how didn’t he realise all of his flawed planning before construction took over?” Charles asks, he’s smiling, the fear slowly sliding off his shoulders like raindrops on glass. 

“Did you come out of university with _any_ of them still liking you or did you actually manage to piss all of them off?” Max wonders, leaning against the railings, 

“I think some of them actually enjoyed the challenge, I was convinced at least three of them were going to fail me though but I don’t know, I’m here now so it can’t have been that bad.” Charles sighs with a shrug. 

“You know it’s going to be fine, don’t you?” Max reassures him, 

“Say that to me again after it’s over.” 

Max edges closer to his best friend, throwing his arm around Charles’ shoulder letting it land with a thump that jolts him forward.

“Alex asked me to go with him to Sheffield next week…” Max trails off, 

Charles smiles to himself, 

“What did you say?” 

“I said yes, obviously. Are you going to be alright without me?” 

“I think I can manage to stay alive for three days or however long you’re going for.” Charles responds, voice drowning in sarcasm as he rolls his eyes in Max’s direction. 

“Right, but you said that to me when I went home for a week in fourth year and you almost burnt the house down trying to cook noodles.” Max reminds him, “I think our landlord wanted to strangle you when he saw the hole you burnt into the ceiling. I _wanted_ to strangle you.” 

“Oh, you’re just mad because it was your floor I burnt the hole in.” Charles dismisses, “it’s not like it was big enough for you to fall through.” 

Max lifts his hand ready to slap him but Charles catches his arm and twists it slightly until he relents.

Charles breathes out slowly, he is okay, he’s been okay for a long time now and he knows that he’s more than ready for this too. 

***

Charles kicks the base of the stand into place, the boards laying flat on top of each other at the end of the table and he pushes the stand far enough back that he’s sure he won’t trip over it when there’s a knock on the door. 

“How’s setting up?” Lewis asks him, walking into the room and closing the door behind him,

“Easier than the presentation.” Charles says to him, lifting one of the boards up and setting it on the stand. “Do you think it’s good enough?” Charles asks him, rolling up his shirt sleeves and turning around to lean against the table and look over at his boss. 

“At the end of the day, it’s not up to me-” Lewis starts, 

“- Yeah, it’s up to Toto and his company, I know.” Charles interrupts with a grumble, brushing his hand through his hair as he looks down at the second board inches from where his hand is resting. 

“No, it’s up to you. You’re the one who preaches about believing in yourself being the most important opinion, what’s changed?” Lewis asks him, approaching the end of the table and leaning against one of the chairs that’s tucked in. 

Charles shakes his head, “I don’t know.” 

Lewis chuckles gently, “do you remember when I first met you, you were still in school and I was working out in Monaco-”

Charles’ ears perk up at the words and he turns to face Lewis, suddenly interested, confused, only just finding out that he’s not the only one who remembers that day. 

“- There’s first impressions, Charles and then there’s impressions that stick with you for years afterwards, have a guess which category you fall under?” 

Charles raises his eyebrows, 

“You were _opinionated_ for a fourteen year old, not so much with an attitude but you were talking about things that it took me years to figure out, it was like you’d learnt the entire subject of architecture in one go. You somehow managed to remain quiet during me and a few co-workers talking but when the questions started, you just seemed to challenge me.” 

“I remember something about good designs versus cheap construction, you told me that sometimes you have to sacrifice your own design for sustainability and I remember it made me so _angry.”_ Charles laughs, “I didn’t understand that side of it back then.”

“I think it was then, just seeing how much it impacted you that I saw who I see now, someone younger, ready to challenge the side of this job that we’ve grown up with. When Seb and I started working together, things were different. We didn’t have the same artistic licence that you have, we built this firm up in a way that we saw the future.” Lewis smiles, “I believe in this and you’d be a fool to lose your belief in it now.” 

Lewis leaves Charles to chew on that information, glancing over his shoulder as he leaves the room and leaves Charles to stare at everything his brain has formed over the months, the sketches and the pull to how he’s changed things from everything he’s used to. 

*** 

Charles is tapping a pen against the palm of his hand when he feels his hair being ruffled up from behind and he snaps his gaze towards Max who unapologetically smiles, 

“Don’t mess up.” 

“You’ll put us all to shame.” 

He watches as Max and Alex disappear into the back of the room, hiding just in front of the door that leads into Seb’s office, talking to themselves when Charles is distracted by Pierre walking in, all black and Charles thinks that might just be a deliberate choice. 

“Hi, are you ready?” Pierre asks him softly, his hands in his pockets as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“I think so, I don’t think I could be more ready if I tried. I have dreams about this.” Charles huffs, “I just want to sleep and not wake up at three in the morning because I had a nightmare about my client walking in with a dragon head.”

Pierre laughs, all too amused by Charles’ reply and wants to ask if he’s being serious even if he’s almost certain that he actually is. 

The first time Charles drew a building, he was six years old and it was a simple square shaped house with a triangle roof but the windows were in the shapes of stars and he closed his eyes and picked three random colours to use. His dad stuck it up on the wall of his office just above where he hung his calendar every year. It’s still hanging there even today and even though Charles has done hundreds of other, much better drawings over the years, he still thinks that house with the star shaped windows is his favourite. It’s the one that got him into drawing, that ignited a small spark at the time to wanting to do this in the future. Sometimes it seems stupid and sometimes it’s his favourite story to tell. 

Charles greets Toto and two of his employees when they arrive, his handshake is firm - he was taught at a young age how to shake somebody’s hand properly, he laughed and wondered why it was such an important skill to have back then. 

Nodding at Seb and Lewis, Charles stands at the front of the room and within a click of his fingers, the words fall easily from his lips and he slips into his element, the pride that he has in his work comes out like the sun shining against glass, so bright, so clear, and all the fine, intimate details that Charles worked ten times harder to make sure were included make perfect sense amongst the grander design. 

Charles doesn’t have a specific aesthetic when it comes to designing but he thinks this could be the closest he’d come to one, and with one quick glance to Toto sitting at the table, taking notes, nodding along to everything that Charles is saying, he thinks that his client might be inclined to agree. 

He’s asked about room dimensions and levels of light and Charles answers them like he knew they were coming (he did but that’s not important), it’s the most confident that he’s felt in a long time. 

“It’s so different.” 

Charles freezes, hands clasped together as he tries not to stare at Toto like he’s just kicked his puppy seventy yards.

“It’s incredible. You know, I don’t take recommendations that often-” Toto looks towards both Lewis and Seb before back to Charles “- I tend to find my own architects, experience is a key to me but sometimes taking a chance on the unknown, the _unexpected_ can be a risk that pays off.” He chuckles to himself, “this is, beyond my own imagination.” 

Instinctively, Charles flicks his gaze over to the corner with Max and Alex leaning over each other to hear better and catches Pierre’s eyes, a smile of nothing but sheer, unfiltered pride that could blind Charles if he lets it.

“I was worried, probably more than I let on but you just have everything, don’t you?” 

“I try.” Charles grins, hands behind his back as he looks behind at his work. 

“You should be proud.” Toto states, standing up and walking to the front of the room with his hand held out for Charles to shake, “amazing job, I can’t wait to take this back to the company.” 

Charles shakes his hand, almost shaking himself, unable to formulate a complete sentence. 

“Thank you, Charles.”

“My pleasure.” Charles breathes out, lifting one hand to rest at the back of his neck as Seb and Lewis take a turn to talk to his client, “oh my god.” he half mumbles to himself, 

It takes a lot at the end, files to be made up and sent out, Charles tries not to react too much once Toto tells him that a full decision can take somewhere between six and eight weeks and they share a joke or two, calming any lasting nerves that Charles still hasn’t quite shaken off. 

It’s only once he’s out of sight that Charles is clattered into from behind, Max wrapping his arms around him and Alex grabbing shoulders, the both of them talking a mile a minute with Charles unable to catch a single word of it. 

He’s getting pulled in every single direction and at one point, he thinks he might pass out from the dizziness as he leans against Alex to try and steady himself. 

“Mate, we’re so fucking proud of you.” 

It’s over, 

Yet it feels like it’s just the beginning. 

***

“I think it’s a really bad idea to give you this, you haven’t stopped shaking your leg _since_ we got here.” Pierre winces, holding back the cup of coffee despite Charles holding his hand out. 

Charles doesn’t lower his arm and Pierre finds his resolve melting at an alarmingly fond rate as he hands him the cup, Charles sipping it quickly even though it burns his tongue, sinking back into the leather chair, breathing a sigh of relief. It’s the quietest that his mind has been all morning and now that it’s over, it feels like any normal day. 

“You did amazing.” 

Charles flicks his eyes up from where he’s staring at his coffee and the steam rising from it, 

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” Charles tells him, truthfully, even if Pierre is surprised by it.

“Yes, you could - actually, no, you couldn’t.” He teases slightly, raising his eyebrows, “I’ll take most of the credit on opening night, people should be showering me with praise.” 

Charles just shakes his head, his heart beating faster, his smile hurting his cheeks as he listens to Pierre but knowing he’s not about to let him take all the credit, maybe some, maybe half. 

_Opening night._ It sounds good when he thinks about it, standing inside his own work, situated in central London, thinks ahead to the future and wonders if one day when he’s much older, would architecture students be using his work as something to study. Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself though. 

“Pierre, are you free on Saturday?” Charles asks all of a sudden, snapping out of his thoughts, 

Pierre has his cup to his lips and he’s looking at Charles with furrowed eyebrows and confusion hidden behind his hands.

“I think so, why?” He asks, genuine curiosity weaved into his words, 

“I want to take you somewhere.” Charles smiles, “it’s one of my favourite places in London.” 

Pierre nods, “okay, I can’t wait.” 

Charles leans back, finger circling the edge of the mug in his other hand as he looks out of the window, catches his reflection for a split second before turning back to Pierre,

“Are you ready to see your old professor?” He asks, 

And, truthfully, when Charles sees the way that Pierre’s eyes light up at the simple mention of him, it’s enough for Charles to die happy at the sight of it. 

He lets Pierre ramble, getting lost in the technical side that he doesn’t understand, Pierre stumbling when he notices Charles’ lost expression and explains it as simply as he can before continuing as though he was never dragged off course. 

Regardless if he never understands it, Charles could listen to him talk about it all day, knowing that it’s clearly something he wants and Charles is nobody if not persuasive. There’s so many things that he doesn’t know yet, there’s so much more that he wants to learn, he’s never experienced an attachment like _this._

Charles remembers at a young age how love looked like, he looked at his grandparents and his own parents, saw different types of love languages that they shared between them, this isn’t the same but he’s never been one for sticking to what’s known, and hell to it, if he thinks he’s going to start now. 

*** 

“You’re incredible!” Charlotte shouts as soon as she sees Charles through the crowd of his co-workers, jumping on him and almost knocking him sideways, unable to hold back. “I heard this genius brain of yours managed to make Toto Wolff speechless.” She’s grinning as she pokes the side of his head, arms curled around him. “I’m so proud of you, you’re going to be a bigshot architect all over the world in no time. Please remember me when you’re renowned and moving all over the world building up your incredible ideas-”

_ Maybe, it would be nice. _

“- Charlotte, stop, stop, slow down you’re going to make yourself dizzy.” Charles warns, holding her still before she moves and ends up knocking someone down the concrete steps. “If I  _ ever  _ get to that point, remind me to make you my assistant - I have better perks.” 

Charlotte kisses his cheek, “my fucking hero. Save me from hell.”

He sips his drink slowly, standing outside the bar and looking around at people spilling out of the pub opposite, shouting, singing as he leans against the wall, the damp brick pressing against the back of his jacket when Seb walks out. 

“Hi Seb.” Charlotte greets, still hanging onto Charles like a koala to a branch. “Thanks for letting me crash my genius’ celebration, I’m going to get a drink.” She untangles herself from Charles and passes them both, walking inside. 

“Seb…” Charles tips his glass forward and clanks it against his boss’ “was today even real?” Charles asks, tilting his gaze downwards, laughing to himself in somewhat disbelief, tightening his grip on the glass. “Did you feel like this when a presentation went so well… that it seems fake?” He asks, “or am I just being too hard on myself?”

“What makes you think it stops feeling like this?” Seb asks him, raising his eyebrows as they stand by side, “this is only the easy part done  _ but  _ you’re not being hard on yourself, there’s always something different you think of afterwards, when the stress is gone.”

“This is the  _ hard  _ part.” Charles argues, “I’m not sure, actually. How do you deal with feeling,  _ empty,  _ I guess after this? I thought I’d be bouncing off the walls acting - I don’t know - how Charlotte is?”

“Patience, you’re too impatient for your own good, Charles.” Seb tells him amusedly, “you’ll be regretting not taking the most of this time when building work starts, it seriously does go in the blink of an eye. You’re stopping yourself from enjoying this by thinking too hard, drink up and go and have a good night with the others.” 

Charles sighs and lets his shoulders slump, sipping the gin in his glass slowly, “it just feels too surreal to… make sense of it, I guess but you’re right, they should  _ all  _ be making a fuss of me.” 

“And they will but you have to be there for that to happen.” 

“Hey,” Another voice calls out, 

Charles snaps his head up and all the insecurities that managed to build up within minutes disperse when Pierre reaches him, hair damp from the rain that fell just twenty minutes earlier and greets Charles with a kiss. 

Charles leans into him, cheek wet with the raindrops that still linger on Pierre’s jacket but he doesn’t mind and just exhales a sigh instead, grabbing a fistful of the material between his fingers. 

“So, this is your boyfriend?” Seb asks him, only laughing when Charles stares at him, “what? Just because I’m your boss, it doesn’t mean I don’t hear things. Also Max doesn’t know how to whisper.”

“... Are you embarrassing them, babe?” Lewis asks, coming up behind Seb and pressing a kiss to his cheek, arm holding his waist as he steps up beside his husband.  _ “Go.”  _ He mouths to Charles, distracting Seb (which after all their years together has become second nature to Lewis).

Charles takes that as his cue to pull Pierre inside and find where he left his friends, all sitting around the table having a deep discussion over where Charles is going to take them when he’s renowned worldwide, apparently. (Charles looks over to Pierre and wonders how he’d react if Charles asked him).

The drinks flow, Charles sitting in the middle of the booth underneath the old refurbished factory window, one hand clumsily holding a glass and his other tangled up with Pierre’s. He rolls his eyes at Max sitting practically on top of Alex, the both of them distracted from their surroundings, watching a video on Alex’s phone, sharing gazes -  _ fucking hell,  _ give Charles another drink and he might just knock their heads together.

He’s buzzing and Charlotte’s dragged him to the middle, hands joined and they’re dancing to something in the charts that Charles can’t remember the name of. 

Charles is friendly to everybody he meets (within reason but the idiots from the marketing department deserved that) but he still only had Max in his life for the longest time. After arriving in England, it was him and Max. they stuck to each other like glue and barely had any friends outside of each other, he met Alex on his first day of work, he met Charlotte a few weeks later and now he has Pierre in his life too. 

Charles and Charlotte rejoin their friends after a few songs and a few minutes of watching Alex and Pierre ganging up against Max for their amusement, and he leans back against Pierre’s chest. This is  _ his  _ celebration, and he’s with the only people he wants to celebrate his success with, 

The future is scary. It is really  _ fucking  _ terrifying but even if this time it might not be enough. He’s surrounded by the people that he knows will pick him back up if it doesn’t fall his way, he’s going to okay whatever happens, and for that, he’s absolutely certain. 

_ “To Charles!”  _

One of them shouts it and their drinks are pushed together, spilling over the top and onto the permanently sticky table, the music thumping in their ears, they drink the night away, sing the night away and they push away all the thoughts of what could happen tomorrow. 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr!](https://pierlex.tumblr.com)   
> 


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